Light, Shadow, and The Hand
by Crazy Jack
Summary: Rukia's friends fell away like flies, and everything Toshiro's believed in wasted away as those closest to him withered. Time is running short with no happy ending in sight, and this time, picking up the pieces might be a little too hard alone. Rated M for thoughtful reading.
1. Prelude to a Sad Song

Story: Light, Shadow, and The Hand

Pairing: Rukia/Toshiro

Rated: M (for swearing, dark themes, and probably other stuff)

Genre: Romance/Angst (lots and lots of angst)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that belongs to anybody else... except for this story. 'Tis mine.

Uh, I think that's it?

Enjoy! :)

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><p>One gentle shift relaxed breath against moonlit skin. Silver shards tumbled through open doors to come to a crash landing against a floor. The scene seemed to belong within the stanzas of a fallaciously written poem. Against the light raised a shape, imprinted black on the faraway side of the light. A simple shape, somewhat round with five stubs extending off. Each stub, save for one, had three joints, and could bend and grasp with a fine skill. However, at the moment, these stubs were simply held against the light, spread apart, as if trying to imprison such silvery tendrils.<p>

But the light couldn't be held by such an abominable force. It cascaded and slithered and eventually disappeared without a trace into black, with no proof of its existence besides a lingering memory and the natural instinct it would one day appear again. Even if there would be no one around to see it.

Against the light, the shape with five stubs began to gain comprehensive features. Small indentured lines were scribbled hastily amongst what looked like ghostly flesh. Each movement reflected a ripple within the muscle that made the light shift sideways. Movement was constant, so the light pattern constantly changed, even though it was difficult to see. However, the light continued to pass subtly by the shape, giving it a distinct outline. It was a hand, fine and amazing in all of its little abilities, set out to wrestle with the light.

Of course, the hand could never win such a battle. How could something so solid compete with a concept? The hand was defined as was. That hand would always be that way, with the five stubs and the indentured lines. Sure, there could be scars, or more wrinkles, or perhaps the hand could be completely mutilated. However, that wouldn't change the fact that the hand could never be anything it wasn't. Light, however, didn't exist in the infinity that was the hand. Light had its own power, and a hand couldn't capture that power. So the hand was forced to submit to the light as it was lowered towards the ground, and the light continued to shine on.

Knowing was the hard part for the hand. Because it knew it would always be what it was, and it was frustrating. It was difficult to fully accept the hand as it was, because the hand always wanted to be something else. Sometimes it wanted to be a hoof, sometimes a wing, sometimes a fin, sometimes not. Rarely did it want to be a hand, and because of that, the hand never did everything it could. The hand didn't create, nor did it feel. It simply grasped at objects that couldn't be touched, ever wishing it could be free of boundaries, like light.

And sometimes the light felt sorry for the hand. The light was free in all the ways it could be. It danced against skin, shimmered against water, and eventually melted into color. It was so simple in the ways it could be, yet its allure caused all beings to rely on its freedom. Only air itself could perhaps fathom the sheer notion that was light, but air has always been jealous of light, as it wishes that it could be seen, even if it can enter places that light can't.

That was why shadow was light's only friend. Because without shadow there couldn't be light, and without light there couldn't be shadow. While most believed that light didn't need shadow, that was completely ignorant. If it weren't for shadow's existence in the first place, light would never have existed. There would have been nothing. Nothing but air, which couldn't be seen. That's why light and shadow came together to create, and in their creation, gray was born. From gray expanded the rest of the colors, red, orange, blue, green, and so on. All these colors were born of light and shadow, and all of them eventually found their own ways into what was the world. Before, the world had been nothing. Before, the world had been only lonely air. But as light and shadow began to populate, things changed. Grass sprung up from the ground, the color of violent green. The sun showed a fluorescent orange, while water lapped a variety of blues. Each color found a home, and in those homes grew life.

You may ask what the point of this story is, but there is no telling. The only telling is that not much would make sense without it. This story begins with light and ends with shadow… but sometimes it is the other way around. Sometimes it's shadow who starts, and light that ends. Either way, somewhere between the middle and beginning is where the two touch, and somewhere after the end is where they fade away. Don't worry, though. Light and shadow never fade for long. As long as one exists, the other will stay alive.

Of course, what about the hand? The hand, in all of its confined glory, is key as well. Not much can be done without this hand, because even though the hand doesn't believe very much in its own existence, light and shadow know better. They know, but they don't tell, which can make air very angry. However, there isn't much the two can do. The hand must find its own way through existence, and eventually it'll come to realize the bitter truth of what has happened.

Now that you have been introduce to the hand, light, shadow, and air, there is a list of things that you may now know, some of which have already been explained.

1) Gray came before colors, and is the elder to all of the younger, more naïve colors.

2) Colors cannot create, only light and shadow can. Colors can only find homes amongst the creations of light and shadow.

3) Light and shadow cannot exist without the other.

4) While air is jealous of light, it could care less for shadow. And despite air's jealousy, it will always cooperate with light.

5) Shadow has never been evil, although it has been mistaken as just that many times.

6) The hand is the creation of light and shadow, but this isn't the bitter truth. The bitter truth can only be reached after the story is told.

Sometimes this story won't make much sense, but you must bear with it. Light and shadow are locked in an infinite dance, and sometimes the two don't make sense, even to each other. It takes patience to unweave light's blindness and persistence to coax shadow into listening. However, once these two problems are overcome, there is nothing that can stand in the way of light and shadow.

Last, this story isn't about light and shadow, although they play an important part. This story is about the hand which you have barely met, and even more about the owner of the hand. Air will also be included, but only to an extent. Don't worry, though, this story has promised to entertain and understand. If that confuses you, don't worry. Sometimes the story gets confused as well, and needs to be retold a few times before it can remember what exactly it was going to say.

Light and shadow meet halfway across the hand as a slice of silver slits across the stubs. The two are locked in an ever permanent game that the hand doesn't understand. The hand doesn't feel, so it doesn't matter very much. Instead of the hand worrying about light and shadow, it twitches slightly. Nerves are being awoken as eyes open against air. The hand begins to stop worrying as motor nerves are put into action. Light has come, and with it is consciousness. It is time for the story to begin.

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><p>The sound of inhales shared with exhales reverberated the space of air that lingered just outside of the slightly parted mouth. Even though she tossed from side to side as her mind continuously tortured her with relived memories, her breathing was continuous. Despite the fact it was ragged and shallow, it never stopped for too long.<p>

The blankets that lapped on her body were scrunched and thrown carelessly aside as her body raged in rhythm to her dreams. Faster and faster, her muscles twitched, her face pinched, her breaths ragged until a high pitched scream interrupted the stillness of night, and the girl with the violet eyes shot halfway out of bed, her face contorted and each muscle strained with tightness. She froze as her gaze met only darkness, her mouth still open in a left behind howl. Her eyes were wide as the bloody images were left burned in her memory, taunting and grotesque in their own life.

Footsteps pattering against the thick wooden floors were immediate, but not hurried. Too sudden of movements would send her into a frenzy, as they had learned in the past. She was terrified, and this bone gripping terror couldn't be chased away with company. It couldn't be chased away at all, really. It was a terror that seeped through clothes like a frozen cold and was instilled into one's very bloodstream. Once it was there, it coursed like oxygen through veins, becoming an essence of the person. Eventually that terror was ingrained as a part of the person, where it stalked them everywhere. Even in moments where terror was momentarily forgotten, it was never completely gone. It always hung in the peripherals of the mind, waiting for a chance to slink into the open.

In the beginning, shadow was mentioned as being mistaken as evil, but shadow isn't evil. Evil simply has the same characteristics as shadow. It tends to lurk in shadow, although evil was as much present in light as it was in shadow. It was simply easier to see when one wasn't blinded by light. So it was easy to mistake shadow as evil, as was this case. Here, as she stared at the dark, she could only see anguish and fear. Her body was frozen with this complete terror, shivering, as she wished for some sort of light to chase the darkness away.

It seemed like ages, but there was only a few seconds difference between the sound of footsteps and the sliding of the door as it opened. A small candle was lit, and while only more shadow was produced by the light, the slivers of light managed to chase away the immediate darkness, showing only what wasn't there.

The timid girl in the doorway didn't speak up immediately. Instead, she watched the slow process of the mistress forcing her limbs to calm. Her jaw began to close, and her eyes went back to normal, although she didn't squint at the sudden light. Beads of sweat collected on her head, and her face was flushed from exertion. Strands of hair stuck to her sweating face, and her chest heaved from the sheer memory.

"Rukia-sama?" The small girl spoke softly, her voice timid chime bells that rode through the light to the mistress's ears. She didn't probe anymore, knowing she stood on a delicate balance. The woman's reaction could be different from her last night terrors. She might decide that the shy servant was a representation of an enemy, or she might simply collect herself, dismiss the girl, and settle in for a long night of staring into shadow.

Once again, the few splits seconds that held silence seemed to last for minutes, if not hours. The girl held the candle in front of her, unsure whether to speak again, or to place the candle down and leave, or…

Her frantic wonderings were cut off by the mistress raising one hand, a hand with five stubs and indentured lines. She didn't speak, not daring to trust her voice, which most likely would be torn with fear. Instead, she waved her hand, the fingers bending at the joints to accent the gesture. It was a dismissal, she didn't wish for the girl to stay.

The servant immediately bowed, before backing out of the room, taking the light with her. The door slid shut with a smooth racking sound, and Rukia was left with shadow that was only slightly disgruntled by the patches of moonlight that snuck through her closed window. While she longed to sleep with fresh air, she was too terrified to keep the thing open at night.

Silence reigned in the room, and now there's the thought that silence should have been introduced sooner.

Silence is an enigma compared to the others. Even though light and shadow and air can't speak, silence's stifling nature is almost too painful to endure.

There are different types of silence. There is the silence that is normal, one in which things aren't truly silent, but are quiet. Instead, there is the sound of birds in the background, or perhaps the wind, or perhaps even the sound of breathing and the beat of a heart. True silence, however, is mammoth. It is powerful, giant, gripping and terrifying in the way it stills everything. It is hard to find true silence, but once true silence is found, it is impossible to ignore it. It is heavy, pressing against every sense, and it knows no mercy. No creature is safe from true silence in the times it chooses to present itself, and now, in Rukia's room, true silence is imminent. Because, even though she is breathing, and her blood is coursing as her heart beats, she can't hear that.

All she can hear is silence's nefarious presence, the one the lingers and grips. She was breathing, and she had to close her eyes to break that true silence, knowing that if she didn't, she'd scream even louder. She forced herself to listen to her heart, and then she let out a long, interrupting breath. Just as well, silence wasn't too deterred. It had only met a few humans that could stand true silence for longer than a few moments.

Slowly, her heart beat began to return to normal. Shakily, she lifted her fingers to touch her sweating face, as if making sure all of the flesh was still there. Her touch was hesitant, as if she were afraid that it'd simply pass through. But it didn't. Her fingers met warm skin, slightly damp from sweat (and what she'd never admit was tears). Her fingers stayed there for a long time, while her unseeing eyes stared blindly into the darkness.

Her heart beat began to calm, and with it, her breathing was deep and rhythmic. She shakily lowered her hand from her face to grasp the blankets the lay strewn on top of her body. She knew she had to smooth them out so they covered her body again, the room was never warm, but she didn't quite have the courage to move. Not yet, anyways.

Instead she went through the normal routine. She'd stare into nothing, her mind strangely blank as comprehensive thought began to return in slow chunks. She'd begin to remember that the horrible taste was simply a dream, and that dreams, though torturous, could do no real harm. With that comforting realization, memories of her past few days would begin to come back, accompanied by the problems her days caused. She would then start to feel the stress piling onto her fine shoulders, but that wasn't anything new. Most people felt as much, if not more stress than she did. However they were able to get more than a few hours of sleep at night that wasn't terror-ridden.

As soon as thought returned to her head, she glanced out the window. She could still see the moon, which meant it couldn't be later than eleven. She had been in bed by nine, since she had a higher success rate of a good night's sleep if she went to bed earlier. Her high success rate wasn't very high, though. Now came the dawning realization that she still had at least seven hours before expected at breakfast, which meant at least five hours before she could get out of her room without being scolded.

Calculating that, she managed to gain control of her muscles to situate the blankets back on her body before carefully laying back down. Then she just continued to stare at the ceiling. Sleep would refuse to come, she knew, so there was no point in closing her eyes. Instead she just stared, her mind surprisingly numb, as she waited for the hours to trickle by.

As you wait for the moon to cross the ocean of sky and for the sun to stretch its head over the tips of the horizon, there is a distinction that has to be made. And that is the distinction between shadow and darkness.

Most would say that shadow and darkness are the same thing, but they'd be wrong. It wouldn't be bad, though, because it is very easy to mistake one for the other. Both are extremely similar in their characteristics and personalities, but there is a difference, however miniscule it might seem. While that difference may not look very large, it is assured that that difference will eventually grow to be important, so it is intelligent to explain the difference now.

You see, darkness has a different tangibility than shadow. It lurks in different places. While shadow is simply created where light cannot fall, shadow has no real definition. It is a concept, and therefore is free. It doesn't have any tangibility, one cannot touch a shadow. Perhaps they can pass their hand through it, but you can't say you know what a shadow feels like.

You might say that darkness is the same, it has no tangibility. However, darkness does. Darkness doesn't just mean black, because darkness has an ability shadow doesn't. Darkness can reside in one's mind.

Don't worry if this is somewhat confusing, you'll understand. Let's start with this. Shadow can appear in people's dreams, but shadow isn't a part of one's mind. It's a part of knowledge, as when you look down and see the dark imprint of your body against the ground, you know that is your shadow. However, darkness isn't really like that.

Another thing you should know is that, while there can be darkness without evil, their can't be evil without darkness. This isn't because evil doesn't exist in light, it's because evil can only really be seen in darkness. An evil that can't be seen doesn't really do much good, as it will be casually dismissed. So, even if evil can only be seen for a second, there has to be darkness. Perhaps that's why people think shadow is evil.

The point I'm trying to make about the difference between the two is that darkness is almost a noun. Darkness is what contains evil, so therefore darkness can exist in one's mind. And when darkness exists in one's mind, that means darkness has the ability to give people night terror's, to make them fear, to force them to watch the most gruesome images. That is something shadow cannot do.

One more thing. Don't think that darkness is evil. Darkness isn't evil, nor does it really want to be. It is simply that when evil takes over darkness, darkness has no choice but to do evil's bidding. Perhaps one thing you should remember throughout this story is that darkness isn't evil, and nor is shadow. Evil is evil, and that's all it ever will be.

Now that distinction has been made, the story turns back to the room. Time had fast forwarded a bit, and now the moon has practically disappeared behind building tops. The sun has yet to make an appearance, but there is a slight glow to the east where it is bound to rise. The earth is still cold from the moon's shivering glow, but everywhere, song birds are beginning to wake.

Rukia's eyes were already open, so she only required a slight turn of her head to see the promise of sun lurking on the floor. The day had lightened, and with it was brought a gentle heat, one too new to feel yet. Her eyes were open wide, and there was no inkling of tired within her mind. She was ready to start the day, and it wouldn't be until after her meal that her body would be reminded of the sleep it missed. Until then, it was easy to rouse out of bed.

The blankets slid from her clothed skin with ease, dropping in a sloppy bundle on the floor. They were strewn across her bed, but she made no effort to clean it up. A servant would come by as soon as she had left to clean.

She took one step onto the wooden floors, although the skin on her feet seized slightly from the cold. The wood was a good insulator, which also meant that when it was cold inside, the wood was cold as well. The depressed feeling made small goose bumps prickle over her arms as a shiver was sent up her spine. For a moment, it seemed funny that, while only her feet had felt the abrupt cold, her body reacted to it violently.

There wasn't much she could do for bare feet at the moment, her brother didn't like shoes worn inside the house, so she wrapped her robe tighter across her soft flesh. The rubbing sensation was one of pleasure, as the material was soft and gentle, gripping skin in a caressing way. It was obvious to the touch that this bedtime material cost more than some people got in a year of working, and sometimes she felt just a bit guilty as she dressed herself with the fine clothing.

Aiming towards her closet, she slid it open with an easy flick of her arm. The thin door moved without protest, making slight noise as it hit the wall. Using only one delicate hand, she rifted through the many clothes, although not for much reason. It was moment's like these that she was grateful there was a rather defined uniform, otherwise she'd spend hours staring at the wardrobe. While her brother was strict about what she left the house dressed in, she still found it difficult to select from that guideline. Not because her clothes were boring and ugly (at one point she had spent hours at the shops pouring over the selections, pulled by a strawberry blonde and a girl with bright orange hair), but because she didn't care much anymore. Fashion seemed like such a meticulous, difficult task that made her head ache, and reminded her of the lack of sleep from the night before. So she ignored the bright colors and soft kimonos that hung, thin layers of dust stacked from lack of touch, as she selected the black robes.

The touch of these clothes wasn't as gentle as her silky night pajamas. They were rough, both from frequent wash and unseen stains, made from a fabric that was meant to be durable, not soft. They didn't smell flowery or wild, like she imagined her own scent to be. They smelt like soap and an undertone of sweat and blood, which was the true mark of a fighter.

Her current yukata dropped to the floor in a heap as she undid the rope that tied the open front together. It slipped past her smooth skin, revealing her rather petite body in its barest. The feeling made her automatically uncomfortable… she didn't enjoy the feel of vulnerability. She had been trained since young to always be on alert, and her bare flesh, prickling slightly from the cold, now ached for coverage.

Her hands quickly complied, as she slipped the black robes over her body. The rough fabric pulled at some of her finer hairs, causing her eyes to blink in a tiny wince. These clothes held a whole different aura from her sleepwear, and it made her wary. They held power, sacrifice, even bravery. It was as if the persons that put on such clothes were making a tiny, subconscious vow to protect and fight. At one point, she had embraced this feel every time the robes had touched her body. She had relished in the deep smell and the fight that boiled through her blood as her figure was covered. Now was different, though. Now, she longed once again for her yukata which lay sloppily among the ground. She wanted the feeling of petite carelessness, not because she ever enjoyed being viewed as weak, but because her heart didn't feel strong enough to wear these clothes.

She wasn't worthy.

Worthy warriors didn't wake up screaming after two hours of sleep. Worthy warriors didn't lay their rooms a mess and expect someone else to clean it up. Worthy warriors didn't slack from jobs or purposely take easier tasks so they didn't risk messing up. Worthy warriors didn't let their friends… their friends…

Violently she shoved that notion away. Suddenly irritated, she yanked her pants onto her waist, tightening the band so they rested comfortably across her lower hips. She stepped brusquely away from the closet, her feet making soft padding sounds against the floor as she moved towards the mirror. While she herself didn't care much for appearance, there was no way her brother would allow her to leave with her hair mussed as she knew it was.

She always hated mirrors. Even back then, when she sat in front of the vanity to meticulously brush knots from her thick tresses, she had never quite understood them. The way that whenever she blinked, the reflection blinked back. She always got the strangest feeling as she sat by the mirror. Everything was opposite, and she could never shake the notion that maybe, just maybe, she was the reflection, and the real her was living out a life she dreamed of.

However, she always tried to tell herself that notion was silly. Not only did it seem impossible, but her mirror self was just like her, which meant her life would be identical. Therefore Rukia would never wish to trade places with her mirror self.

The pale face that greeted her was the same as it always had been. Large violet eyes, set evenly on her rounded face, blinked every now and then to keep her eyes from drying too long. Her raven black hair sat clumped on her head, and she could feel the grease on her nose and cheeks. She picked up the brush from the smooth brown table, where the handle fit snugly in the palm of her hand. The bristles were thin, but the shape was rather rounded. It was a dark purple color, and on the back was printed a small, happy looking bunny. It had stark white fur, with one ear half bent and paws raised, as if it were dancing. The picture was rubbed until it had faded, so some parts of the bunny were just a shade lighter than the brush itself. That was from when she used to hold the back of the brush itself, instead of the handle. When exactly she had changed that habit, she wasn't sure. Perhaps it was because every time she touched the bunny, grief would overwhelmingly swim through her gut, poisoning her stomach. The happy figure simply reminded her too much of the past, and she had enough terrors at night to constantly remind her. She didn't need to feel that terror during the daytime as well.

Her brush strokes were dully rhythmic, like an old woman knitting on her doorstep, her fingers bored from the memorized movements. Sometimes she had to tug a little harder in order to untangle the many hairs, and occasionally she would get fed up with brushing one spot over and over again, and would yank the brush through her locks. This action always caused her to wince, the feeling wasn't pleasant, but that didn't stop her from doing it again. It was the fastest way to remove the terrible knots, and she didn't want to spend all day staring at her lifeless, violet eyes.

A knock at the door interrupted her monotony, and made her pause. Servants didn't normally knock on her door so early in the day. Hell, most of them were sleeping at this time, save for the few who had hard, outdoor jobs and liked to finish them before the heat of the day baked their backs. Slightly curious, she let out a small, non committal sound, the closest anyone could get to her affirmative. She didn't speak in very full sentences these days, instead preferring small growls or 'ahs' or using her body language. Spending the time to think of her words before speaking was a waste of energy, especially when it was spent trying to be heard by those who refused to listen.

To her side, the door slid open smoothly, although a piece of wood seemed to catch the side a little bit, causing a thin, splintering sound. However, the noise was temporary, and if one hadn't paid enough attention to hear it, they wouldn't have noticed the problem at all. Rukia, however, made a mental note to have the servants re polish the wood soon, as she half turned her body, dull gaze connecting with the visitor who stepped three steps into her room…

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><p>… The story is now going to change a little bit. Not yet will it be going into the past, although you surely have questions. There will be a time for that later, but for now, going back in time would ruin a lot of what you are reading. If you knew what had happened, this ordeal would make a lot less sense, and you'd spend your time trying to connect the dots rather than understanding the story, which is critical.<p>

So hold onto your questions. For now, the story is going to zoom out of Rukia's room, out of her house, and travel exactly 19.7 miles north of north east, on top of a shady hill that looms over a miniscule duck pond. There are never any ducks there, though. It's because of the vicious fish that lives in the pond. Any poor creature, that isn't larger than a medium dog, who attempts to drink from the pool will feel sharp teeth in their faces before being dragged underneath. No, the pond isn't very large or very deep, and it's a wonder as to why a fish resides there. It just always has been.

However, this story's focus is not on the pond, but on the hill. It's a relatively steep hill, with a sudden curve. It looked as if someone had poked beneath the earth, causing this one little mound of earth to rise. The angle is immediate, and the difference between hill and meadow is miniscule. Still, grass grows plenty over the sides and top of the hill, giving the whole thing quite a warm appearance.

A strange thing about this hill, however, is the fact there sits one lonely tree, rooted into the Earth, branching towards the sky. It's a tree with wide, silver branches and skinny green leaves that turn various hues of brilliant reds and vibrant oranges as autumn swoops by. On windy days the leaves will be caught by the breeze and will flutter for only moments, hovering and flickering through the air. Sometimes they will brush against human skin, but mostly they find a home upon the grass, where they become the shelter of tiny bugs which swarm amongst the foliage.

However, this story doesn't want to look at the tree's top, although there is a lot to be said by the seemingly random set of branches, it wants to look at the bottom. At the trunk, to be more specific.

The trunk isn't extremely thick, although this tree has stood for over a thousand years. An average child of the age of thirteen could probably wrap their arms around the tree and be able to at least skim their fingers, although not many children of thirteen wished to hug a tree. However, this tree is different, because, unlike other old trees of its kind, there are no deep rivets in the bark. No signs of weathering, no broken off slips of wood. In fact, the trunk is perfectly smooth. It has the same bark as a young tree, and because of that, locals call it the Tree of Time.

It was a confusing name, really, because you'd think that the tree was able to control or withstand time, but all this tree has kept is its youth. While its wild, rampaging branches boast of years of weathering and fighting to reach the sky, its trunk is smooth, devoid.

The point of telling you about the tree is because the story's other main characters feels a sort of kinship with this tree that's hard to describe. While knowing about this tree isn't necessary, perhaps it'll give you some insight as to who exactly our next main character is. Plus, it just so happens, that at this moment, he is settled against the Tree of Time, curiously watching the duck pond with no ducks in it. And now that your setting has been described to you, it is time to meet the next character.

He's not like Rukia, but he is. He doesn't have night terrors, and he has a rather extensive control of his own thoughts. Perhaps that is how they are alike and different. Both have tortured memories, but unlike her, he can suppress these thoughts with the skill a business man can suppress outside noises.

And he's more like that tree than he'd ever care to admit. He wasn't old, at least, not compared to the ancients that hung around Soul Society. And perhaps his branches spread in fascinating and random ways, but that's not what this story's going to focus on. Besides, that's an analogy to strange and broad to be used for this purpose.

What this story wants to focus on is the bark. The bark, which is silvery and smooth, despite all the hardships it has faced. While some would think of this as an extremely positive thing (since people over the age of forty spend about half of their paycheck trying to look young), in this case, it isn't. This is a negative thing, and here's why.

This is a rough example. Imagine yourself at your high school, or at any other meeting with teenagers. Imagine that you have a really large crush on that person over there, for all intents and purposes, there will be no gender. That person is your really good friend, and they tell you that their birthday is in a couple of days. Well, you happen to know this person's absolute favorite food is brownies. So this is easy, right? All you have to do is make some brownies to win your crush's affection.

One problem. You've never cooked a day in your life. Oh sure, you can make pour cereal and milk into a cup to make breakfast when the parents are away, but you don't go anywhere near the stove or oven unless your kid brother set themselves on fire. In fact, you just don't really like to be in the kitchen at all.

However this is a special occasion. When you get home, you research online how to make brownies. It turns out you have all the equipment you need, so you get started. You mix the ingredients, making sure to read and reread the directions several times. You don't want to mess up.

But inexperience gets in the way. You spill some of the mix, you drop an egg, and you forget to preheat the oven. Things aren't looking too great, and your mother is worried your spending time in the kitchen, but you don't ask her for help.

Finally, you are able to get the brownies into the oven, but you miss the part about the difference in pan sizes and how long you should back your brownies. You overcook them by five minutes, and by the time you realize, it's too late. You're out of time. You still have homework to do, and your brownies are slightly overcooked.

However, you don't worry about it too much. Instead you wrap the brownies up neatly, and set off to do everything else you need to. Secretly you worry, but you're too busy, and face it, too excited, so you push those thoughts away.

Morning comes, and it's the big day. You get to school, and in the cafeteria, you spot your crush. They have friends around them, others that are congratulating them on living another day, and you make your way towards them.

You say hello, and just before you can hand out the brownies, your crush offers you one of their own. It's sweet and perfect in all of the ways yours isn't. You realize it is made by a person they like, and they want to ask them out.

You smile and tell them you're happy for them, before trashing the over cooked brownies, and walking away, insisting nothing is wrong. But, truthfully, a lot is wrong.

Perhaps this analogy is a bit overdramatic in nature. Hopefully you don't become hooked or crushed over one person because of a few brownies, but what's overdramatic here is what's appropriate for Toshiro Hitsugaya.

If you're wondering if he got his heart crushed, it's only slightly. However, he had a lot more to lose than a crush. The feelings Toshiro are experiencing are ones of anger, despair, and guilt.

He worked so hard, he had always worked so hard. Sometimes he worked harder than the kids in his class, which was why he progressed so much quicker. They all thought it was because he was simply a prodigy, but that's not it. He worked hard because he had a goal, and because he was sick of others looking down on him because of his shorter stature or young age.

For that reason, he excelled in every subject. His kido blasts were accurate and precise, and sword skills were quick and graceful, and, physically, he could probably beat over half of the kids in his class without cracking his knuckles. He worked until he couldn't raise his arms, until his body was not only covered in a thick sheen of sweat, but he was bathing in his own stew. The teachers saw his driven nature and were impressed. Hardly anybody fought so hard with as much determination as he did, and for that, they respected him.

He graduated school extremely young, and went on to become a legend amongst Soul Society. He was the youngest Captain ever to grace such grounds. He was fierce in temperament and cold in personality. He was protective and wily, but controlled and unwavering. He didn't mind sneaking up behind his best friend, laughing internally as he watched her scare. He would stare as the sunsets melted into the sky, and, on rare occasions, he'd buy himself a whole watermelon to indulge.

That was before.

Before all of his efforts were literally ripped into a thousand pieces before his cerulean eyes. Before the blood had been so succinctly freed from flesh to mold onto his cloth and skin. Before those screams, _those screams. _How they haunted him when he wasn't suspecting it. Never in the day time when he thought, but sometimes, before he could object, they would sneak into his dreams. He would be dreaming normally, wrapped in a deep sleep, when those screams would gauge at his mind and unravel the tiny threads he had used to sew his broken heart together.

Perhaps it sounds silly, the fierce Captain of Squad 10 having a broken heart. He's a proud man, is he not? Wasn't he the one to leave Soul Society on his own to redo his own wrongs? Wasn't he the one who had made it through school at such a young age with a fire in his eyes which was hard to ignore. Wasn't he supposed to be the god damned **hero**?

The answer is no. This is because, and it doesn't matter how strong you think you, or anyone else, are, every single human has a breaking point. Every single living, breathing mass can only take on so much weight before their shoulders bow. And once their shoulders bow, it's difficult, if not impossible, to ever stand straight again. However, more often than not, a pair of bowed shoulders will eventually crumple beneath their grief, and suddenly you are left with a shell of a man, someone who functions as they once did, but are lost beneath the surface.

Going back to the tree, the real analogy is the difference of how they are perceived. If one ever chopped down the tree to look inside, they would realize an ugly secret. They'd see the thousands of scurrying bugs which had killed the tree a long time ago, and while the leaves still grew and died and grew again, the outside was lost in time. The bugs used the tree as their safety, and they didn't want it to die, so at night they all wormed out of the trunk so they could work their magic on the outside, leaving it smooth and standing strong, while it has been dead for hundreds of years.

That is why it's called the Tree of Time.

Perhaps it's gruesome to imagine, but that's how Toshiro was. On the outside, he was the man who had been before the accident. His eyebrows still twitched at the nonsensical ordeals of his subordinates. He still shut himself in the office for hours at a time to do paperwork. He sometimes even bought watermelon, just for himself.

However, if you were to cut him open, you'd see that inside, all there would be is a patched up heart and an almost fixed soul. Somewhere inside of him, the bugs are working to make him seem normal, to make him seem as strong as he once was. However, each attempt is a façade. He simply disguises it so well, the unobservant can't really tell. Or perhaps they are simply afraid he has changed, so they choose to believe he hasn't. Things are easier that way.

Easier, but not better. Each time the scent of watermelon hits his nose, hit heart rips a little more. When his eyes happen to glance out at just the right moment to see the sun setting the clouds on fire with brilliant hues, his will is chipped at. Whenever he spends time snapping at a subordinate for what others would call a stupid cause, his soul shatters just a little bit.

All these changes happen slowly, so slowly no one else can notice. Only he can feel the pain each time something happens, but his mouth stays silent. In his mind, he is no longer worthy of another's care or attention.

He's not the hero.

He's a god damned **nobody.**

* * *

><p>Perhaps this story should change views for the second time. There wasn't meant to be so much angst from Toshiro at this time, this was simply supposed to be a beginning introduction. This story apologizes for the angst, but don't seem too beat down. This story changes, doesn't it? It fluctuates with the irregularity of a bipolar temperament. The only thing that's predicted is some unpredictable changes.<p>

The focus is going to shift back to Rukia Kuchiki, the girl with the violet eyes and raven hair and terrible nightmares. When this story left, her body was slightly turned at an angle so her glassy gaze could inspect whoever decided to step into her room at the early hour.

However, after the brief break, she no longer was in her room. In fact, she was nowhere near her house. She was approximately six miles due west, at a different building in a different setting. Don't worry too much, though. This story will rewind just a bit to give you a bit of background. We'll catch up to Rukia in a little bit.

Back in her room, she was a little shaken at the idea of someone summoning her this early in the morning. Ever since she had joined the Kuchiki Clan, her brother and elders and always drummed in the feeling of instinct.

You see, instinct is an overwhelmingly powerful type of defense. Your instinct can tell you more about a person than any other sense alone, because your instinct combines all of your senses to be able to reach conclusions about someone. Have the feeling the person next to you is probably shy? Instinct.

And at this time in the morning, Rukia's instinct was telling her that this news wasn't unimportant. She had always listened to her instinct, but now she was wishing she could tune it out, because the feel of her visitor made her heart beat a little faster and the center of her palms perspire slightly. She was nervous.

Footsteps were soft and light as a girl inched into Rukia's room. It wasn't the same girl who had come to check on her during the night- she was different. She had olive tanned skin that looked natural in the way it sat over her bone structure. Her face was a gentle curved oval, with a pushed up chin and high cheek bones. Her eyes were ever wide and her eyebrows were bent graciously over her eyes, although they sat a bit higher than normal, giving her a look of surprise. Her hair was a pulled back mess of thick black ringlets, and a couple of strands escaped her ponytail to dangle at the sides of her cheeks.

She couldn't have been much taller than Rukia, and for sure, her aura was more timid. She mumbled a few words in a mousy voice that were inaudible as she thrust a small envelope towards the mistress. It was easy to tell in her movements that she was afraid of being accused of peeking, which only made Rukia more suspicious. However, she didn't say anything. Instead she plucked the envelope from the girl's hand, dismissed her with a small wave, and settled back down.

Her legs were crossed before her as she held the white envelope in her hands. It was a milky white color, with no markings on the outside. It wasn't sealed, and the seal hadn't been broken, so the message was most likely sent and delivered post-haste. This only made her more curious. It couldn't have been summons from Yamamoto, as he sent Hell Butterflies.

With shaky fingers that she clenched to gain better control, she slid the paper from the envelope. Tucking the white wrapping on top of her desk, she flipped the letter over, surmising the words.

There was only a couple of sentences, written in rapid, sloppy kanji from hurry. Her heart beat a little faster, as she read the words on the page…

… and was out of her room faster than one could blink. She may have seemed sluggish, but her flash steps were just as expert as most of the others in Soul Society. She didn't hesitate.

Back in the room, the paper flittered to the floor, landing with the text against the ground. Later, it would most likely be picked up by a maid and thrown carelessly in the trash. None would know the importance of the words she had read.

_Miss Kuchiki_

_Your friend at the hospital is fading. There isn't much time left for her._

That was it. No signature, no name. Just a couple of vague sentences that held so much weight and desperate grief that it sent the collected Kuchiki whirling out of the room.

This story will skip the sprint from the girl's home to the Fourth Squad's hospital, there isn't too much to tell. In fact, this story will skip the rushed meeting with the nurse at the front, and the calmed walking towards the room, although her heart was beating faster and faster with each step, catching in her throat and making her breath ragged.

She rounded the corner, fists clenched and teeth gritting together painfully, although it helped distract her. She was numb to the world around her, and she felt heavier. She knew there was nothing left to be done, but it was still so damn painful.

They were laying a thin sheet over the body on the bed when she walked in. They were two young squad members, who both adopted pitying, almost scared faces as they felt her presence. She didn't mean to be scary, but she couldn't help the spike of spiritual pressure. She didn't want to admit it, really, but she was terrified as fuck. Suddenly her night terrors were returning the painful vibrancy, and she had to swallow hard in order to stop her stomach from emptying all contents onto the floor.

"Miss Kuchiki." That was the unmistakable voice, one full of gentle sorrow. At one point Rukia had wondered why Captain Unohana always spoke with such a quiet lull, and it was because she had the hardest job of everyone. She was the one who took responsibility for lives. She was the one who could deliver the happiest of news, but she was always there when one passed away from her safe hands.

Rukia turned slightly, and to everyone's surprise, there were no tears built in her eyes. Her face was unchanged, and apart from the spiritual spike earlier, she looked placidly normal. Unohana didn't blink at this irregularity, although it was only because she knew of the pain.

Do you remember silence, reader? Do you remember when this story spoke of silence's true weight, and how it was alienated by both light and shadow? Try to remember, because silence is ever present, especially in the minds of those who feel almost more than broken. Shattered, really, with a few too many pieces missing for the picture to be put back together. And in those times, reader, you'll realize that true silence will no longer be an enemy. It won't be an enigma, nor will it be crushing in its magnitude. Instead, you'll greet this silence like an old friend, because true silence is too full for someone to think. True silence is a reprieve, and while it always disappears eventually, sometimes that is what's needed to recover.

And now Rukia remembered the last time she had seen her friend, lying like a little china doll on the bed. Her eyes, which usually held such a spark of vitality that made Rukia jealous, were closed off to the world. Her long strawberry blonde hair that swayed in the wind and would turn a fiery orange when caught by the sun was now dull. Her skin, although usually pale, was now a ghastly shade of ashen gray. Rukia had only visited her once in the hospital, because she saw no point after that. In Unohana's eyes she had read that this was the same thing that had claimed everybody else.

And Orihime's body may have been there, kept alive by the many machines and tubes which pumped into her system, but her spirit was not. And without her spirit was no will to live, leaving her an empty shell of a human being. Rukia saw no point in visiting that shell. No one ever questioned that decision, although they all suspected her being weak. However, it was the other way around. It'd be weak to visit. It'd be weak to remember Orihime as this pathetic body which was kept alive artificially, when she had been so much more.

The workers peeled past Rukia, carting the empty body towards the back of the hospital. The wheels squeak occasionally while the bed would make a shuddering metallic noise when it hit the sides of the ground. Despite the fact Rukia had known thinking of Orihime as that dead body was weak, she couldn't help but remember.

This was because there was nothing else for her to do. She had failed, utterly and miserably, at her dream. She couldn't protect. She couldn't help. In the end, just like before, she was the worthless one that was left behind. She could do nothing. Nothing, but stand in the now empty room with the elder Captain watching her back.

Nothing, but stare at where that bed had once been.

Nothing, but remember.

* * *

><p>Phew! This is a bit darker than what I usually write.<p>

If you're wondering about the extensive, abstractness of this piece, it's simple. I felt like writing an abstract piece, and it just happened these two characters fit in very well with the story. Plus, my creative writing teacher has been getting on my case about slowing down my writing, not hurrying it, and adding more specific detail. So if it gets monotonous, I apologize. I'm doing my best.

Also, I apologize for any grammatical errors. I didn't proof read this, and I don't care to. However, if you point out mistakes, I will fix them.

Chapter updates will be few and far inbetween. I apologize again, but I'm busy.

Like it? Hate it? Have any constructive criticism that could help me out, or just want to give me your two-cents? Drop a review!

Until next time.


	2. Write Your Evil Screen Play Geek Girl

Wow.

So, my last/first chapter got a lot of good reviews, which actually makes me exponentially nervous. Now I can only hope that my next chapters turn out as good as the first ones.

So, someone asked me if this is AU, and yes, it is. It takes place in the same universe, same characters, same setting. So, actually, it's more of a spin-off story. Don't ask me any more details than that… I never know the endings to the stories I write.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"<em>She can paint a pretty picture,<em>

_but this story has a twist._

_The paintbrush is a razor,_

_and the canvas is her wrist."_

_- Amy Efaw, After_

* * *

><p><em>Click. Clack. Click. Clack.<em> The sounds echoed from the friction of the bottom of the shoes slapping against the floor, and reflected off of the walls, making the once silent hall almost eerie with the abstract noise. _Click. Clack. _No one had fine enough hearing to delve beneath the abrupt sounds to listen to the beating heart and ragged breath. _Click. Clack. Click. Clack. _It was a good thing too, because no one could control the rate of their heart beat, no matter how placid they seemed. It was the only indicator to the true turmoil, other than the slight uncharacteristic twitch of his hand.

_Click. Clack. Click. Clack. Click… _The steps came to an abrupt halt in front of a sliding door. The frame was made of a rich, deep colored wood, the shade of dark mahogany. It was easy to tell that this door itself cost more than some houses, and for some reason, that bothered him more than usual, although he could never tell why.

His hand reached out, gripping the handle with a type of stable control that left others blinking at the extensiveness of his calm. Some, however, saw this type of control as cold, as if they thought it was easier for him to react with no emotion. They only said that, though, because it was difficult to feel all the pain of life. They assumed it'd be easier to feel nothing. However, it wasn't.

No human, or Soul Reaper, was entirely without a soul. And as long as one had a soul, it meant they could feel. He wasn't unfeeling. He simply suppressed the emotions others were free to express.

Nothing was easier. Life was just as hard, simply in different ways.

He could feel each presence lingering on the other side of the door, as potent as the feel of a Hollow that stood with its jaws at his throat. As present, and as threatening. Each one was as caught up in their own egos as the next, and it made them dangerous. They looked down on those around them as most people looked at ants, insignificant and unimportant. Their problems didn't matter, nor did their ideals or cares. They were irrelevant.

They could feel him too, and his hesitancy made them irritable. He wasn't a man to reconsider just before doing anything, he always weighed his options hours before and then would act with his graceful swiftness. This time was different, though. None of them had given him time to think, and while he wasn't known for stumbling over words, each question would require deliberation.

The sound of the mahogany framed door sliding open was smooth and rather peaceful for the tense aura the man was emitting. However, all of his feelings were carefully shrouded with a calm that the elders would find annoying on a normal day. His stormy gray eyes, the color of clouds before thunder rumbled powerfully through a thick sky, were narrowed slightly by the furrow of his sharp black eyebrows. It was a face that gave him a constant look of deep thought and dark understanding. It was why most couldn't stare into that gaze for too long, that stare could make the faint cringe.

"Byakuya." The first man greeted him, his tone drawn out and gruff. Although the referred man decidedly didn't like to simply choose sides, he found his fingers twitching towards his sword and an inner anger building within his blood. It was an intense and instantaneous dislike that he felt for this man, and while he couldn't be quite sure why exactly he felt it, he didn't question it. He was rarely a man to question his gut.

He didn't respond, and the resulting silence was tense and laced with icicles. Another of the elders made a subtle motion to sit, although his jaws were set in vexation. Once again, Byakuya hesitated, but this wasn't a hesitation made of being unsure, and that was easily seen in the way he almost wrinkled his nose. Although there was no change in his face, the revolt he felt at following this man's orders was reflected in the gazes of the elders before him.

His wants, however, were unimportant. He slid downwards, smoothly sitting before them as his black robes spilled sleekly over the ground. His white haori, so proud in the way it announced his power, was noticeable and bright against the dark.

Do you understand, now? How light and shadow can't exist without the other? One creates and magnifies the other, suddenly letting you see it, when before it was invisible.

He wouldn't be the first to speak, and they all knew it. He had learned a lot from being young with these elders, and speaking quickly and irrationally led to one being made into a fool. He had learned how to be silent, how to sit for long periods of time, only accompanied by thoughts, allowing silence to touch his eardrums.

Remember true silence? Well, while for any human to reach and reside in true silence for more than minutes is basically impossible, here is a man that could probably come the closest to true silence without flinching. He was as comfortable in the presence as he was in the rush of battle, where screams of agony and fury were as rampant as the blood that splattered the battle field.

The elders, however, couldn't stand this silence. With every second that moved by, they would twitch uncomfortably, and their mouths would stretch into thin, stressed lines. The silence made them feel less powerful, as if the tables were being turned against them. It was as if, in this silence, Byakuya was suddenly the one with the power, and they were the ants.

But that was preposterous, right? Nothing could surpass them. At least, that's what their thoughts whispered onto their own ears, in a dishonest rhythm. That's when they would begin to talk. Too much silence made them doubt.

They were, however, smart enough to not to waste time on pleasantries. They'd be wasted on Byakuya, who most likely would remain silent rather than answer. The first elder, the only one to have spoken so far, was the one entrusted to deliver the message. He opened his mouth, and in his gruff, drawling manner, spoke again.

"Problems are arising around the Kuchiki House." He started out, his voice adopting a dark, grave manner. "Rumors are being spread, Byakuya, and most of us are hard pressed to believe them as true."

His face didn't change. His eyebrows didn't flicker, his lips didn't twitch, his fingers didn't even move from where they rested on his knees. If one took a quick glance into the room, they'd see a group of men having a formal conversation. They would find no danger in the coming words, and they'd pass on without a second thought.

But you're smarter than that, because words are not the most poignant part of language. It is the little things, the parts that are unspoken. The manner words are spoken, or the way a body is held, can change everything. Spoken words are not the most important, because spoken words can be change or manipulated to cover a lie. However, body language is not like that. Body language is what tells a person what they are truly feeling.

So when Byakuya had no change, not in manner, not in tone, not in movement, it was enough to make the elders snap. Only through a few cursed words in their heads and a slightly tighter gripping of their clothes did they force themselves to calm. The elder was about to demand a response, when Byakuya's cool tones suddenly sounded.

"There have always been rumors surrounding the household." He responded, his voice even and solid. Indeed, his words rang truth to them. People always made up stories about the Kuchiki's… they may have been powerful, but they were practically celebrities. Plus, Byakuya could already partially sense where this conversation was headed, and he'd rather cut it off now. "They haven't mattered before, so why would they matter now?"

Almost as if they were a being with one mind, each elder narrowed their eyes with a peeved glower. They didn't like being made fools of, they were usually the ones to make others feel idiotic. However, Byakuya wasn't stupid. His tone, although calm, carried just enough ragged edges to make it sound as if the elders were worrying about something that didn't needed to be worried about, and they were simply fussing.

The speaking elder cleared his throat slightly, bringing his fizzling thoughts to a centered calm. Byakuya's quick retaliation could easily be explained by the fact he was sitting there with no clue as to what his summons were, but the elder knew better. They pulled this trick often, and Byakuya's feathers were never ruffled over such petty game play.

No, this was different.

He wasn't stupid. He had been ever present in the past weeks. He had noticed the shifting of eyes that slipped back and forth, thought to be unnoticed, but ever glaring in their secret nature. The hairs on his arm, which never prickled even as his blood was spilt in battle, were now standing on end with the electricity of the tension that ran through his home like a wildfire started by careless campers. The murmurs didn't fall on deaf ears, and his sensitive body picked up every change.

For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime, Byakuya was truly on edge. He knew exactly what the elders were beginning to hint at- he'd experienced enough of their madness in his day to deduce their thoughts- and it made him mentally summon Senbonzakura. Truthfully, if any of these people had an inkling to the vastness of his true fury, they'd run, sobbing for forgiveness. However, the irony was that they didn't, and now they felt full and protected of themselves when they were probably the closest to death they'd come in awhile.

He couldn't say anything, though. He couldn't voice his anger, or his hatred for them and their rules. He couldn't silence the servants with anything but a cold glare, and he couldn't find any solutions. He was practically helpless, glued to the spot, and for the first time, Byakuya felt truly unable to protect what was his pride.

* * *

><p>Don't worry, reader, this story will retract soon. However, if it stayed now, you'd find yourself reading paragraphs and paragraphs of angst filled sentences, and while they may be descriptively helpful, they are truly unimportant.<p>

However, there is something that needs to be explained to you, simply to explain a bit more about this story.

In a perfect world, stories wouldn't exist. Sure, there'd be the verbatim stories, quick run-ons about the past of a funny experience or an inspiring tale of your mother's bravery. However, there would be no novels, no fables, no fairytales. There would be no "once upon a times" or "happily ever afters", because people would already know these existed. There wouldn't need to be a person with a fancy imagination and skill with a pen to tell others of such facts.

You do know, though, that this isn't a perfect world. In fact, it's far from it. In this world exists murder and plague and death and betrayal and all other imperfections that can make one miserable. It is, now that it is thought about, a miserable world, where people hate more than they love, and lose themselves in lost causes.

What you might not know, however, is that this world is ever changing, on a larger magnitude than most people suspect. It's an evolving world, and each minor event can cause a catastrophic metamorphosis. Adjustments are impossible to avoid, and what is it that helps people through these changes?

Many people will tell you something else, but this story believes that the answer is stories themselves.

There is a possibility this story is biased, but it's a believed truth.

Each change accumulates more obstacles, and to overcome obstacles are heroes. That's why stories are invented. A new story brings a new character that is a little stronger than the last. When the world changes again, which it will, this story will not be enough. Another story will then have to step up and spill their words for others to gobble. And that story, for at least a short period of time, will be enough to sustain until the world changes again.

With a new change comes a new hero or heroine, someone a bit stronger than the last who can better deal with these new challenges.

It's a job that can't be handled by even a few hundred. It is a job that is handled by everyone, from those who place their novels on a book shelf at a department store to the tired fathers who whisper grand chronicles to young princesses with sleepy eyes.

This story will have its time, but in the future, it will be inadequate. For now, it is time for this story to move into the real plot. It has played with scenarios and touched a bit on the characters that will be forced to adapt to rising foes, but has not yet countered what these foes are.

Consider the introduction over, reader. It's time to move on.

It wasn't just strange for him to wake up with the shivers. It was abominable, it was eccentric, it was idiosyncratic. Not only was the fact simply perplexing, but the whole sensation was.

Toshiro wasn't born rich. He wasn't born with power, respect, or money. He wasn't given a second glance until a fateful day where he, by chance, ran into that busty blonde woman who would change his life in ways that were unfathomable, and still sometimes are.

However, despite all of that, he had never felt cold. Well, he **had** felt it, but never had he found it unpleasant. In fact, he had always reminisced in the chill. He enjoyed the way it tickled his spine and caressed his cheeks. The touch of snow against his skin might as well have been velvet. It was one of his few inexhaustible joys, and he never minded getting a strange look when standing outside in a blizzard with only a shabby pair of pants and a mangled shirt. The feeling was bliss.

The waking up part was normal, but what wasn't was the way his skin seized and his breath hitched. The back of his neck felt damp and frigid, while his entire body was covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat.

His brain was working and screaming as pressed his forehead into the palms of his hands, eyes squeezed tightly. His diaphragm seized unsteadily as ragged breaths escaped from his mouth, and small bumps raised on his naked skin while his body shivered uncontrollably.

The thin blanket that normally fit so snug around his shoulders was now strewn along the foot of his bed scrappily. It looked as if it had been crumpled and thrown, which it probably had been in the midst of the night. And now the moon that shone its fading light through the window pressed against the fabric, throwing random shadows onto the floor, although none reached Toshiro's feet.

Each heaving gasp he threw seemed to make the air in the room quiver. Small ice crystals seemed to precipitate in the air, but it was a mystery as to why one who was cold summoned more ice. Perhaps it was simply because the whole cold sensation was a mystery to him, and it didn't occur to wrap the blanket around himself.

Or maybe his emotions were raging out of control, and he was afraid he'd snap if he dared to reach for the blanket.

Either way, he sat motionless, save for his contracting and expanding chest. His knees were pressed up against his front, while he balanced his head against his hands, making the flesh cool. Although the air in the room was toxically cold, tiny beads of sweat pooled against his upper lip and neck. The iciness of his hands against his forehead was numbingly delicious, as the shivers of his body began to fade into an uncomfortable prickle.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, and he didn't much care. It could've been hours, but it felt like minutes. His mind was too scrambled to make much sense of what he should have been feeling. Instead, his body simply felt, while he didn't try to think about why.

He felt his hands beginning to indent against his skin. He felt the goose bumps begin to fade and press back into his skin, as the hairs on his arm lay flat. He felt his breathing slow, and the sweat begin to dry. He felt the rub of sheets beneath his bare feet, and the alarming cold that spread through the room, so frigid that as he exhaled, his warm breath caused condensation to gather on his wrists.

Slowly, his mind began to regain power over his senses, in order to keep from feeling raw. However, he kept distance from the nightmare that tugged at his memory. At the moment, it was a wisp, a murmur of a thought, and he didn't want to remember. If he remembered, he might plunge back into despair, and he spent his days avoiding such an incident.

So he kept his focus on what was current. His thoughts magnified on slowing his breathing and warming the room. Although he enjoyed the temperatures, it certainly wasn't healthy for his body. He didn't, however, remove his head from his hands. He knew that as soon as he took his head away from the numbing ice of his hands, the headaches would take over, and even the powerful Captain was unwilling to face that blinding agony head on.

His breaths took on a steady rhythm, and his heart finally found its old routine. It no longer fluttered in panic, and his body began to take on the still calm of the world around him.

He grit his teeth as he slowly unfurled his body. He separated contact from his hands to his forehead, and stretched out his legs. Immediately, his bones began to ache and his head split with a pounding that mirrored a leaf at the bottom of a rockslide.

His fingers clenched against the sheets as he bit back a groan of agony, his teal eyes still shut to the world around him. He didn't dare open them, knowing that if he was met with any type of light, he just might start screaming, and the last thing he wanted was for another nearby worker to come running to his room in panic. He didn't have the patience, or the ability, really, to deal with that, and the unfortunate soul would probably end up frozen.

Outside of his room, the moon continued to sink lower in the sky. Dawn was closer than Toshiro expected, but luckily, only slight remnants of his headache would remain when he would notice a turquoise light entering his room. However, the headache would keep him bedridden past the morning patrol he was meant to go on, leaving the lesser individuals to sort themselves and go off on their own business. Perhaps they would wonder about his absence for a short while, but they'd soon shrug it off with a slight sigh.

However, many others would awaken with the rising sun. Slow muscles would creak and snap as they were stretched into warmth, while eyes thick and heavy with sleep would blink away the grog to greet the morning light. Feet would immediately be put to work against thick soled shoes, and fingers would flex with the ability to complete the day's work.

The city was awakening, livened by the breath of a fresh morning air. People didn't stop living, moving, or being, despite the pain endured by a few too many. The stones of buildings and streets warmed slightly underneath the sun's glare, and a moth fluttered its wings until it landed gracefully on the edge of a window sill, gray-patterned subsidiaries pumping up and down, practicing in case a quick take-off was needed.

A thin sheet of clear glass separated the moth from the inside world, a place that seemed to breathe all on its own. A place that seemed quite and finite, but when an emotional scream suddenly pierced the air, the surprised moth bowled into the air, flapping clumsily against the slight breezes as it took to the thermals.

The scream didn't actually start in that room, it started three doors down, where a woman with thick hair and shiny eyes opened her mouth into a gaping hole and let out a piercing shout. Doctors and nurses stumbled in surprise, while the few that were quick-thinking in these situations ordered themselves to the source, knowing that no such action went without more physical explanation.

The lights in the room flickered slightly as the woman, gasping with panicked breath, attempted to yank the needles out of her arm. Her normally tan skin was ashen with the lack of sun and her declined health. Her hands shook uncontrollably, and for a reason she wasn't quite sure of, tears continuously leaked out of her eyes. She was terrified.

However, that wasn't the concern of the doctors and nurses that advanced into the room. All they saw was a patient who was forcefully cutting away her own life lines, and in quick decision, they leapt at her. Some used their hands to push her shoulders and arms and legs back into the mattress, trying to assure her it'd be alright. Such efforts were futile, though. Her gray eyes were alive with panic and fear as she attempted to rip out of their grasp. Every now and then, she'd thrust her stomach into the air, as if her back were being pierced by pain. Her eyes were stretched impossibly wide, and every few seconds, a yell of agony would be admitted from her esophagus.

The doctors noted with a sort of alarmed observance that she didn't even look human. Her face had contorted into one of instinctual ferocity, and she looked ready to gnaw her own arm off if it meant escape. Her features were animalistic, and it didn't help that her grand spiritual pressure made some of the doctors or nurses go weak in the knees. A couple even fainted underneath the power, and their bodies were clumsily shoved to the side so as not to be trampled.

Only a few minutes passed before it became apparent that this woman wouldn't calm with their words. A quick order was issued from a brusque mouth, and in moments, the needle full of sedative was injected expertly into her arm.

Another piercing scream emanated from her throat as she felt the needle enter her skin. Her struggles became more frantic, more furious. She managed to rip her legs away from one of the nurses holding her down, and with a well aimed kick, she caught the nurse dead in the stomach, sending her flying backwards as the wind was knocked from her.

The doctors called for someone else to hold down her leg, but as they did, they realized it was pointless. The sedative had been injected, and while she still struggled, her limbs were beginning to be weighed down with sleep. Her yells were reduced to mere murmurs of shrieks, and her ferociously lit eyes were shadowed as they began to droop. Her efforts grew smaller and smaller, until the doctors were able to release her. They stepped back, panting slightly, as they began to reapply the IVs and set her up to monitor her heart beat again. The remaining doctors began to pick up those who had fainted, while the nurse who had been kicked waved away help, insisting all she needed was a moments rest. Her breath was beginning to return.

Outside of the room, Rukia watched with slightly widened violet eyes. They had long willed Orihime's body out of the hospital, and she had been initially following. At first, she hadn't really thought to stop at the screaming patient's room, until she had noticed exactly whose room it was.

Rangiku Matsumoto.

The lieutenant of the tenth squad.

At that thought, her feet had become rooted to the spot. She watched as the doctors fluttered around her, not truly noticing her, as they filtered in and out of the room, yelling orders and moving as a functioning unit. Rukia was just a road bump on the side. They were too immersed in work to really care about her.

It wasn't until everything quieted down and the last doctor exited the room that Rukia's feet began to move as if on their own accord. She took a few steps, as her hand reached out, slightly trembling fingers coming in contact with the cold metal of the door knob. Her heart beat a dull thud in her chest, and for a moment, she considered the fact that she most likely shouldn't enter the room. It probably was a place forbidden to patients, and it occurred that she could get in trouble for crossing the wooden barrier.

However, her mind was nearly numb to caring about such repercussions. Feeling slightly as if she were set on autopilot, her hands turned the knob and pushed the door open. To her slight surprise, it didn't stop as if some invisible force halted it, and it didn't let out a harsh grating sound that seemed like it should belong in the moment. It opened silently, with hardly any resistance. The wood shimmered slightly from the transcendence in light, as the latch clicked silently back into place after she released the door knob.

The room was identical to Orihime's. There was the same tiled floor, the same single window, and the same incessant beeping of the heart monitoring machine. It made her stomach summer-salt slightly, and she had to swallow hard to resist the sudden, rapid urge to puke. If she did, most likely someone would hear her retching and shoo her out, and she really didn't want to have to leave.

Leaving meant she had to continue to face the real world, and at the moment, it seemed too large for her to handle.

The door, heavy with the thick wood, slid back shut behind her, closing off the room with a satisfying click that made Rukia jump slightly. Suddenly feeling very cold and lonely, she crossed her thin arms over her stomach, and took in a deep breath.

Trying to summon her courage, she took a few steps, faltered some, and then resolutely took a few more until she had been carried to Rangiku's bedside. As she walked, she refused to keep her eyes below straight. She bit her lip, nervousness making her need to do something as she tried to close her nose to the smells of perspiration now laced with the bedside's cotton sheets.

Her eyes continued to stare forward, too nervous to look down at the sedated woman. Instead, she kept her violet gaze firm on the window, where all she could see was a thin wall of trees that shimmied ever so slightly in a bitter breeze. There still was some residual dew laced across the leaves, and the constant wind caused the dew to catch the sun's light, making it shine a gold briefly, before dulling back into the shade of the leaves. The effect was an iridescent look that temporarily blinded Rukia.

She looked down on impulse, since she wouldn't have been able to force herself to do it knowingly. Instantly, she began to bite a little harder on her lips, as her fingers dug into her arms. The woman below her… she couldn't be Rangiku. There must have been a mistake, she hoped fervently. There was no way that brash, buxom, bubbly Rangiku could be this shriveled speck of a human that was tucked in these awful white sheets.

But there was no denying that pointed chin and thick eyelashes, that thick blonde hair that cascaded in ripples. Her skin was ash and looked dry and almost grotesque. Although her face was pinched peaceful into her sleep, Rukia could almost feel the waves of angst rolling from her. Her cheeks were slightly red and damp from perspiration, which caused thin tendrils of hair to stick unceremoniously to her flesh. She looked gaunt and hollow, and Rukia was unable to stop tears from stinging the bottom of her eyes, although she refused to let them escape her tear ducts.

She had to get out. This hospital was suffocating her, drowning her in pain and misery and life. With an urgency that belied her graceful movements, she was out of the room in mere seconds, her feet barely making sound as her eyes contacted with the nearest exit and she forced herself outside.

Immediately, the smell of green and a faint, cold wind, still bitter from the morning's freeze, slivered her cheeks red and set her stomach gurgling and churning. With hardly any time to move from the walkway, she escaped into a clump of bushes and emptied the contents of yesterday's dinner upon the dirt. Her retching was loud and vile, but luckily no person stood near enough to see or hear her. She was alone as the bile was regurgitated through her throat and onto the ground, the awful, stinging sensation making her nose and eyes burn.

She was done in a matter of seconds, but she hovered in the keeled over position until she regained the strength enough to straighten again. Each movement caused her empty stomach to slosh, forcing another wave of nausea to roll back over her. Feeling dizzy, she stumbled a few steps until her hands felt the safety of a thick trunk, and she allowed herself to lean on it, turning her head to face the sun.

Her already pale skin was slightly sticky and now whiter than normal. She felt zapped of energy, and she wanted, more than anything, to just lay down and sleep. However, a flicker of white caught her eyes, and she turned rapidly, more because of instinct than anything, in order to see better.

A bad mistake for her. Her stomach immediately churned and yawned in protest, and she felt her knees go weak. Her grip on the tree tightened as she fought to hold herself up, not wanting to seem too weak in front of whoever was going to appear in front of her. A futile attempt, really, as her ghostly white skin and wide eyes gave it away.

A pair of surprised teal eyes met her wide eyes stare, accompanied by tan skin and a sloppy mess of mussed white spikes that were also hair. His white haori, draped so easily over his shoulders, only made Rukia want to curse her fate a little bit more. The last thing she wanted to deal with right now was another person, let alone Toshiro Hitsugaya. Her mind was too tired for this, she was trying her best to ignore what had just barely happened before she broke down into hopeless tears.

"Kuchiki? Are you alright?" His voice called out, questioning in his manner, but pain-stakingly polite, as was required of the captains. It almost made her wince, if she wasn't busy trying to focus on how to disappear into thin air. Each second of focus was forcing more waves of nausea, and for some reason, the color orange kept flashing into her thoughts, making her want to crawl back into the hospital and curl up on a bed. Maybe then she'd just die there, and the pain would leave her alone.

But reality was ever-present in life, and it has no intention of being denied. His voice called out again, and this time, she simply had to swallow a dry lump down her throat and answer. Her fingers tightened a bit on the silvery bark, small slivers getting caught on the ridges of her flesh, but the slight pain did good to clear her mind a bit.

"Yes, Captain Hitsugaya, I'm fine." She answered with the same bland tone of voice she knew her brother to use with all others that attempted to pry into his business, which was daily. She attempted to mask the set of pain that sweated onto her brows with an easy, business like look, but to him it looked like a pained grimace. Her skin was a sickly shade of pale, and the rim of her eyelids were a blotched red.

In short, Rukia Kuchiki was a mess.

Perhaps if he knew the girl any better than he did, he would have insisted on more information, or maybe he even would have ordered her home. As it was, though, his mind was completely distracted from her, and when he acknowledged her answer with a slight nod before turning and stepping onto the hospital, white haori flickering after it, she had practically been erased from his memory.

Some might have found his behavior rather rude, but the raven haired girl couldn't be more thankful for his quick acceptance and leave. She didn't know if she could stand to talk to one for long without either heaving again or letting the tears that were now fighting so desperately to get out appear, and the last thing she wanted was to show herself as weak, especially in front of a captain.

She didn't need any more people whispering to each other and falling silent with meaningful looks as she passed.

Now that peace had returned to the outside, she relaxed against the tree trunk, closing her eyes and forcing herself to breathe evenly. She still had to show up at the division today, ready to report. She still had to have sharp eyes and a quick mind if she were sent on any missions. She couldn't afford to be distracted… distraction could lead to a dangerous situation.

With a half groan of commitment, she pushed herself off of the tree, and took a few unsteady steps forwards. Her head spun momentarily, but she couldn't tell if it was due to her earlier heaving or the fact she had slept only a few hours of terror last night.

Either way, it cleared up momentarily. She found reserves of strength hidden in her muscles, and with that bit of unused energy, she pushed her feet to start walking. Her eyes found the road, and her body turned to keep with her head as her shoes rapped against the stone ground, every so often crunching as they stepped on a piece of gravel.

She'll return to Ukitake's division, and she'll immediately be assigned a mission. She'll be sent out with a small squad of shinigami that won't be quite sure if they should look up to her or feel pity. They know quite well what Rukia has done for Soul Society, that without her, Ichigo would have never killed Aizen, and who knows what would have happened then? Thanks to her strong bond with the powerful boy, he had risked his life in order to protect them all.

However, in the end, Rukia was the one that lost the most. In the end, she was left more alone then ever, caught in a vast, empty space of shadow, where no light could find her.

Remember what was told to you. Shadow is not evil. However, humans can't see very well in shadow, and when they are shrouded in it, they tend to get lost. It's not because shadow doesn't try to help them get out, but because people that are lost in shadow tend to be too terrified to reach out for what's in front of them and grab it.

That's usually why those subordinates whispered about her. They knew she would only be angry if she knew they felt pity for her. A Kuchiki was supposed to be cold, outstanding to the outside world, unfeeling to their own hearts. Anything less than that was unacceptable. Anything less meant failure.

So she would carefully wrap her face in the blank expression which easily mirrored Byakuya's cold stare. She would force her hands to move calmly, without shaking. She'd blink when necessary, swallow when her mouth filled with saliva, and breathe like any other person. And she'd lock away all of her sorrow, sadness, and hatred within a tiny box and swallow it into her stomach, where it would open as her dreams took over to taunt her with visions of fear. Then, with that in mind, she'd grip Sode no Shirayuki a bit too tightly as she brought the gleaming blade downwards on a shrieking Hollow, feeling a sudden bliss as the adrenaline took over her body and the feel of shredding flesh and bone bet her sword.

The area would then be drenched and blood as the dying Hollow dissolved into the air, as her subordinates watched her with a mix of mortification and admiration. Yet, with all of that effort, all of that will that she put into her actions, nothing could feel the hole that had been gnawed away in her heart.

In a sense, she felt no different from the hungry Hollows. Yet, the difference was, in the face of ever pressing reality and grief, she still stood.

Still stood, with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and a few too many cracks that would begin to leak before long.

Don't worry too much about Rukia, she won't be hurt too bad today, or even tomorrow. The blood on her uniform won't belong to her. All of her wounds will be located on the inside, too carefully hidden to see.

However, attention is going to shift away from Rukia, back to the captain that managed to roust himself from his blinding headache in order to step outside of his home. Truthfully, he probably wouldn't of tried if that damn butterfly hadn't fluttered into his room, completely unwanted, and landed gracefully on the tip of his finger. Without being able to protest, the words filled his mind as the message was relayed, and before he could retort smartly, the slight pressure of the light insect's legs disappeared as its near soundless wing beats swished the still air as it fluttered away.

For a brief moment, Toshiro had wondered if the butterflies ever really understood the messages they carried. If they did, did they sag when they knew they had to carry words of death and destruction to others? Did they fly a little faster with urgency in dangerous situations? Did they care a whit for their own lives, or was their only care to serve? Did, at the end of their lives, they weep slightly for such a weak existence?

Perhaps, perhaps not. The mind of a butterfly is yet to be understood in any human's eye, so that story is one that can't be told. Not accurately, at least. Sure, it's a story that exists, but not one that can be told with any sort of ease a story teller needs in order to make their readers understand.

Moving on, this story will skip through the dull morning, although Toshiro's heart beat a little louder with anxiety. It'll move past his brief meeting with Rukia, as it won't matter much until later. Besides, Toshiro didn't really give a second thought to the unseated officer of the 13th Squad. Sure, she had affected Soul Society a lot, but at the moment, she just didn't really seem to matter.

What did matter was the reports saying that Rangiku had woken up for the first time in several months that morning. Plus, not only had she waken up, she had caused quite a scene. She had tried to rip out her IVs, and had kicked a nurse in the stomach, and… well… you know this part.

The point is, Rangiku was not well, and Captain Unohana had requested that he come in to see her. She was panicked and terrified, and perhaps seeing a familiar face would calm her down. That, and he hadn't been by in awhile to see the coma patient Momo, and perhaps he'd like to pay a visit.

The message had been a little too diplomatic for the hectic events Toshiro knew had conspired earlier in the morning. However, he didn't expect anything less from the level headed Unohana, who reported news in a detached way, and often asserted herself, unexpectedly, into situations where she was needed. Plus, every patient knew that the tender-hearted woman had a tendency to be intimidating, and Toshiro didn't want to have to deal with her upset demeanor if he didn't show.

Not that he wanted to.

Sure, he had the duty, of course, to go and see both of them. Rangiku was his lieutenant, and Momo had been his best friend since he could remember, for Heaven's Sake! So why was he being so cowardly? How come he cringed every time he neared that hospital, and he had refused to see Momo once after the Aizen incident?

The answer really isn't cowardice. Toshiro isn't, and never will be, a coward. In fact, most know he's much too headstrong for his own good. He tends to rush into situations, despite his mature tone, and often allows his anger to fuel his movements. Of course, it's not all bad. While this would make many others sloppy in their fights, it seemed to define Toshiro. He had the power of a dragon, of course, and what kind of dragon didn't fight with fury?

No, the answer is plain and simple: guilt. Guilt keeps him away from that hospital. Guilt transpires him into believing that the whole mess was his fault. He acted too quickly, took too many risks, and in end, both of his most trusted friends ended up in the infirmary for it. Only one had woken up, and she had gone near berserk upon consciousness.

He was a god damned nobody, that was for sure.

He had no real use. Sure, he was a said prodigy, and he tended to act with a leveler head then most of the captains in the Gotei 13. He was diligent on his paperwork, and he often acted so as to protect as many subordinates as he could.

However, despite his best efforts, people had ended up wounded and dead. His best friend and lieutenant were practically unreachable, and suddenly Toshiro felt as if he were walking on needles, and if he dared to jump or wince from those needles, he'd land on broken ice.

That is why he never dared to enter that hospital. He didn't feel worthy enough to stand by their sides and ask them to wake up. He wasn't a good enough friend. He had stabbed Momo and failed Rangiku. What other faults could a captain have?

A good captain would honestly tell you not many.

His thoughts accompanied by his footsteps came to a halt in the hallway. The place seemed so bleak and grudging, as if it were barely standing on its own accord. When he glanced sideways, he could spot a small dark stain on the wall, where somehow blood had been splattered and not completely washed away.

"Come in, Captain Hitsugaya." Called a voice, making his turquoise gaze snap back to the wooden door that was the barrier between him and his sedated lieutenant. He didn't want to go in. He wanted his feet to turn and flee, to flash step out of that building as quickly as he could. However, his body betrayed his moaning mind, as his arms reflexively reached out, and allowed his fingers to wrap securely around the door knob. With a flick of his wrist and a gentle shove of his shoulder, the door swung soundlessly open, and created nothing.

He hesitated at the door only slightly, before taking a few steps in, allowing the heavy door to swing shut behind him. For such a vast room, it seemed exceedingly empty. Besides the beds and the machines, the only other items taking up space were him, Unohana, and a couple of chairs that had been placed in the corners.

His eyes traveled from Rangiku to the tall captain, who regarded Toshiro with dark, piercing eyes. Her long braid, as always, was settled down the front of her body, and her hands were clasped in a way that seemed to suggest a demure nature. Her rather pale skin seemed all too fitting against the white-green tile, and even she didn't dare try to smile at Toshiro, as if reading his pain.

"I'm glad you came." Her soft, thrumming voice took over the room, and it made Toshiro blink. It wasn't the word choice that surprised him, rather it was her tone. There wasn't the same calm expectancy that usually resided in her words. Instead, it had been replaced by a feeling of bone-exhaustion, as if her body were ready to give out on her.

His curiosity wanted to ask her if everything was alright, but fortunately for Toshiro, he had never been one to act on his curious impulse. Instead, he opted to say, "I didn't have much of a choice," in a flat, almost cold manner. The sound of his chipped tone rebounding off of the walls practically made him wince, and for a second, he caught a glimpse of what type of cold, heartless bastard he seemed to be.

However, Unohana was never one to see and believe exactly how another appeared. Her sharp eyes could easily read Toshiro's gruff actions, but she offered him nothing in return. Not a kind smile, not any reassuring words. What could she tell the kid prodigy that wouldn't make him snap or feel guiltier?

So she simply waited by the bedside, until Toshiro seemed to summon up enough courage to take the last few steps, until he was looking down at Rangiku as well.

Her appearance hadn't changed much from when Rukia had visited her, so that's a part that can be skipped. However, the overall effect on the observer was completely opposite. Toshiro felt no urge to puke, nor was he suddenly over taken with emotion. Instead, he felt strangely numb, as if seeing her in this bed made a cold wave of reality wash over his body, and after the wave left, the feeling was still there. It soaked him to the bone, so heavy that it was practically impossible to deal with. In response, his mind attempted to turn off slightly, refusing to clearly process what was before him.

The captain of the 4th squad watched Toshiro carefully. His lack of any reaction at all wasn't very surprising, but it was alarming all of the same. It was as if he were shutting down right in front of her, and that wasn't really something that could be beneficial to his squad or himself. Suddenly feeling as if she had to break the silence, she spoke up.

"She woke up this morning." She said, even though he was quite aware of these events. "She was in a frenzied state, but if she woke up once, that means she'll wake up again."

She then fell silent, as she watched Toshiro practically digest these words. He was an interesting person, that was for sure. He seemed to swallow each part of her sentence individually and with great care, as he completely broke down what she was saying. Then, as he began to comprehend, she saw a physical reaction for the first time. He balled his hands into tight fists, as his head lowered somewhat, allowing his white bangs to shadow his eyes. Rage was pulsating from his figure, and outside, she could hear the wind beginning to pick up.

"Tell me." He spoke quietly, his voice dripping ice, "will she wake up exactly the same as before?"

Unohana blinked at his question, her pink lips turning down slightly as she pondered his question. "As before?" She repeated a little bit, wondering if that was what Toshiro exactly wanted. Before the accident, or before Aizen? Each of those circumstances boasted two very different women.

He didn't bother to answer her question. Instead, he turned on his heel, exiting the room with a swiftness that belied his outraged state. Unohana felt herself sigh, as she looked down at the face of the drugged patient. She found herself wondering how exactly Rangiku did wake up. Would she wake up as the Rangiku right before the accident happened?

_And if she did, Captain Hitsugaya, would you be happy with what she was?_

She let out a small sigh, before turning off the light as she exited the room. Outside, the world was darkened by thick storm clouds, as the first few drops of rain splattered against the glass window.

* * *

><p>"Miss Rukia, I'm sorry to inform you that your brother will not be returning home tonight." The clipped voice of an elderly maid was directed at the pale, raven haired girl as soon as she stepped inside of the house. "He is away on business, but will be expected back upon the eve of tomorrow."<p>

Rukia stopped slightly, before nodding at the maid, who immediately turned and bustled away to finish whatever chore she had left undone before she prepared for bed. Indeed, that was exactly like her brother, she thought to herself bitterly. Always marching away on some business, and never letting her know where he went.

Not that she was curious or anything, but she always felt a little more vulnerable when he wasn't in the house. He may not make much effort to know exactly what was going on in her mind, but his strong, powerful presence sometimes made the ghosts stay away.

Tonight, they wouldn't though. They would take full advantage of her in her sleep, and she already knew tomorrow was going to be difficult.

Tomorrow was the day that Ukitake was going to promote her to lieutenant, ahead of Kiyone and Sentaro. She wasn't supposed to know, it was meant to be a surprise, however those two, in their bumbling excitement, had let it slip. And now, Rukia felt like she was falling mercilessly into a dark pit.

Oh, of course she knew her captain only meant well by his decision. She had proven herself rather strong during the course of Aizen's fight. Not many, well, actually, that needs to be corrected. Not any unseated officers could slay an Espada. That was an incredible feat, and she had only been growing stronger.

However, hadn't the events in the months after Aizen's death proven that she was in no way worthy enough or strong enough to take that post? What exactly was he thinking, suddenly promoting her when she spent her sleepless nights trying to capture the light with her hands?

Her furious wondering turned to slight rage as she moved down the corridors and into her room. Emotions bubbled and stirred up inside of her, seeping over and consuming her as she slammed her door behind her in distress. This was all too fucking much!

With her sudden savage ire, her hands sought the closest, breakable item they could salvage, and without much thinking, she flung as hard as she could at the wall.

The sound that resulted was a giant crash, as thick glass splintered and suddenly rebounded across the room, stinging her arm as one piece flew backwards with enough velocity to cut her skin. From outside her room, she could hear a few maids running about in a slight panic, voices raised in alarm as they tried to decide if they wished to journey into her room, but most were too scared of being hit by flying shrapnel to try.

And Rukia? She was left trembling in the center of her room, blood trickling down her skin, and with furious tears that had been swallowed for months beginning to fall down her cheeks, landing soundlessly upon the floor. She wanted to let out a furious scream, she wanted to pull out all of her hair, to knock down these walls, and rip her heart out of her body. Then she'd become the ugly, heartless monster she saw herself to be.

Then her appearance would reflect who she was.

However, she wouldn't scream. She wouldn't pull at her thick tresses, rip out her own heart, or do anything else to damage her brother's walls. If she did, then the Kuchiki family would be the laughing stock of the Soul Society. If their name was mentioned, one would no longer think of nobility and power. They would be met with a vision of the terror of a little sister who'd Byakuya adopted on a whim, and they'd laugh.

Perhaps you'd think that at this point, Rukia wouldn't really care for her brother who seemed so cold. However, you'd be dead wrong. He was, really, the closest person she had left. He was one who she knew didn't talk about her behind her back, because he was above such silly manners. And now, as icy reality began to chew at her again, she realized what a disgrace she had become.

Trying to sniff back pitiable tears, she moved towards the end of the room where the poor, shattered victim of her impulsive anger lay scattered on the ground. She pulled some tissues off of her bedside to wipe up the blood that had spilled down her arm, and, with shaky fingers, she began to pick up the pieces of glass.

Indeed, she had thrown at the wall a glass figurine she had received once on her birthday. She remembered how wide her eyes had been as she had unwrapped the present, and held it so tenderly in her hands. She recalled the large, bright eyes and the calloused grin of the guy who had presented it to her, seemingly so proud of his gift.

And she had gone and shattered it. In seconds, an item that had been cherished for what it was and the memories it elicited now lay in ruins amongst the floor. Her face flushed a bit with even more self-hatred, as she tried to pick up the pieces as kindly as she could. All the while, the room stayed stone-cold silent, and the maids opted to leave the corridor as if they had never heard a thing. The only sounds were the scraping of glass against wood as she picked up the pieces, and the slight shuffling of feet.

Of course, this sound was, in a few seconds, interrupted by a sudden, quiet yelp as Rukia stepped one of her bare feet upon a tiny shard of glass she had neglected. Biting her lip, she hopped over to the trash can in her room, and carefully dumped the glass inside, before turning over and landing on her backside, pulling her foot closer to take a look at the shard that had nestled inside her flesh.

The adrenaline from her sudden anger had now completely dissipated, and the cut on her arm began to sting uncomfortably, as her foot ached every time she pinched the skin. Unable to stop herself, more tears began to spill from her eyes. They blotted her vision and caused her cheeks to sting as her grimy hands attempted to wipe them away. She tried to summon a sort of anger, in order to keep the tears away, but failed miserably. They continued to fall, and at a rapid pace. She had no more fury, instead, all the resided within her was a massive, yawning hole that demanded it was paid attention to.

And she couldn't face that hole on her own. So, with her arm continuing to bleed, and her foot screaming out in pain, she ignored both and curled up in a small ball. She buried her head within her arms and let out a silent wail, unable to stop her sobbing.

In that position, Rukia leaned herself against a wall, refusing to move for the next few hours as she, for the first time in months, allowed herself to wallow in self pity.

Of course, that action only made her feel more despicable. However, it wouldn't matter much, for soon, in a blear, she would drag herself over to her bed in exhaustion. She'd close her eyes, only to be met with sights of blood and terror.

Rukia would not sleep for more than one hour that night, and for the whole seven hours she stayed in her bed, never once would she stop crying for more than five minutes.

However, tomorrow, Rukia will find her in more of a position than just being a lieutenant. She'll find herself placed in a mission that will change her in ways she can't fathom, and let's just say these actions weren't an accident. Think of it as a gift from Rangiku.

You know, the one before the accident took place.

* * *

><p>Well, there you go. An update. Rather dark, huh?<p>

Don't be taken aback, I told you it was going to be dark. A lot of people are either dead or in the hospital, and no, it's not because of the Aizen incident.

If you have any grammatical corrections for me, let me know. I don't have a beta, and I don't really care to read my writing after it's been written, so it tends to stay in its raw form.

I'd expect my next update to most likely be a couple months from now, don't expect anything sooner. Sorry, but it was really thanks to a break in school that I was able to hash this out.

Like it? Hate it? Want to make it into cookies? The drop a review by!


	3. Can You See the Angels Singing?

So, here I am, attempting to update again, with no idea where this story is headed.

Oh, sure, I have a slight idea, but I'm not one to map out my stories. I go with whatever my inspiration gives me. However, that also makes me rather prone to developing writer's block, since when I have no inspiration, then my stories flat line.

However, hopefully I'll be able to push through that. Either way, let's get on with it.

* * *

><p>"<em>For her everything was red, orange, gold-red<em>

_from the sun on the closed eyes, and it all was that_

_color, all of it, the filling, the possessing, the having, all of_

_that color, all in the blindness of that color."_

_-Ernest Hemingway, For Whom the Bell Tolls_

* * *

><p>Sometimes light and shadow don't get along.<p>

Would you have guessed that two concepts, so closely interlinked in the other's existence, quarreled and snapped like an old, married couple? Would you have been able to grasp that, in the essence of their own being, these two antonyms would find themselves at odds?

Then again, maybe it was easy to understand. They are, to be truthful, complete opposites of each other. They are… well… light and shadow. It'd be difficult to invent even more dynamic forces, and one doesn't need to. Light and shadow may have an understanding of each other, but you'd be amazed at how terrible they can be to each other.

First, you must understand that light and shadow really truly love to coexist. One couldn't say they loved each other, as how can a concept love another concept? However, they usually, on a normal, day to day basis, didn't mind the other's existence. In fact, they rather enjoyed dancing around each other, attempting to discern each one's territory, and flouncing back and forth. You wouldn't know it by simply looking at them, but light can be a mischievous tease, and shadow loves to sing.

However, there are times where light and shadow lash out in a magnificent duel that would make the bravest war hero cringe. This mostly happens during times where light and shadow are changing at startling rates, and as they keep changing, they become confused. In their confusion, they tend to lash out at the other.

Do you wish for an example? Well, one will be given, as it fits in well with this story.

Thunderstorms. A time where shadow completely reigns the land, covering all the beings underneath the thick clouds in its veil. At a point in the storm, shadow begins to feel all powerful, now that it is unchallenged in its right.

However, that won't last long. Lightning will flash through the clouds, and, even if it's only for a few seconds, the world will be drenched in light. This wouldn't bother shadow much, except for, as the lightning cracks, bringing with it the sound of thunder, then those who were once shaking at shadow's rule now become terrified of light.

That is when light and shadow will become infused in a deadly battle, bright against dank, flash against constant. They'll fight and fight, until the wind eventually wins, and breaks the clouds apart. Don't worry, light and shadow will always reconcile. They will return to their careful balance, feeling a little bit wiser about the experience.

They'll never grow up out of that thought process, though. One way or another, light and shadow will clash again.

Perhaps you wonder why I bring up light and shadow's constant fighting, but it's only because, as this story reads, dark clouds coagulate over the Soul Society. They cast dark shadows over the buildings and the trees, and a few will notice how suddenly small they seem. How, even though they can fight and bully for strength, they were all swallowed by shadow's power. Buildings and people were engulfed and swallowed underneath these clouds, and in surrender to nature's call, they either unlatched their umbrellas or recoiled under rooftops, wanting to ignore the bitter breeze as best they could.

The first few splashes of rain went without consequence. They were small, even if they stung with cold, and barely perturbed the few that tried to ignore the coming storm. However, these drops soon swelled in their bellies and fell to the ground with such a careless precision, effectively soaking whatever it touched, that even those who despised the weather succumbed to its looming presence and tucked themselves within their jackets. All the while, the rain continued to splash the ground, collecting in small dents in the ground, and soaking into woven clothes.

That was when light made its first appearance. It flashed, bold and fearless and terrified in the way it appeared so quickly, but disappeared with only a white streak behind a person's eyelids to prove it was there. Thunder, in quick succession, rolled across the sky, grumbling as if the clouds were merely hungry and was dumping tears to prove it.

Of course, the entire storm was an enigma in and of itself. Confused people glanced around the skies, certain that it had been sunny and warm earlier that day. The warm breeze had carried no sign of cold weather, and the blue sky had been practically cloudless, infinite and pure in its vast emptiness. The sudden appearance of the violent rain and howling thunder made people flinch.

At least, it made the select few who knew exactly _what_ had brought on the storm, flinch. For, you see, this was the work of none other than the infamous captain of the 10th Squad, who was too busy not dealing with his emotions to control was felt like his heart swirling in his stomach. He knew the terrifying display that would enrage some and quiet others was almost childish. Instead of trying to seal that power in and let out his emotions on a more, ah, private level, he unleashed them all over the Gotei 13.

Still, he wasn't able to help it. Remember those bugs, reader? The bugs that killed that tree from the inside, but made it look as if it were still living and were timeless?

Well, same basic principal applies, and unfortunately for Toshiro, his emotions were too much in a disgusting, tangled heap that he couldn't take the time to make sense of them without doing something idiotic. However, captains didn't do idiotic things.

Still, he had to express his rage and despair in some way, didn't he? As hard as he tried to focus on the bleary black squiggles on the paper in front of him, he found himself reading and re-reading the same sentence multiple times before he simply felt too exasperated and moved on, although he didn't understand the next sentence any better. Minutes passed by of this until, finally, he let the papers fall from his fingers and drift back onto the desk, settling in a neat pile on the mahogany wood.

In all of his years, Toshiro had never been one to give much thought for his appearance, save for, perhaps, his stature. However, his other physical features never bothered him. Others told him how strange his white hair was and how exotic his turquoise eyes seemed to be, but he had never really cared. And now, he found, he was glad that he had never put up any sort of mirrors in the room, because he wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle it if he looked at his reflection and saw the living dead. Zombies were supposed to be make believe.

Stretching his arms over his head, he stood up rather restlessly. He hated this room, and everything in it. He hated the paperwork, he hated the way the walls amplified the sound of his pen against paper, and he especially hated that fucking couch, because whenever he sat on it, that woman's scent encased him and swallowed him in memories that only kept making that hole in his stomach grow wider. He couldn't stand next to it without hearing her voice, or imagining her sleeping on that couch when she should have been working.

But that, in a sense, wasn't right at all. That wasn't the Rangiku from right before the accident. That had been the Rangiku from before Aizen, before her fox faced friend was slaughtered in his attempt at redemption, and before the slow seeds of despair had been planted inside her mind. They had all tried to uproot those seeds, force them at of her, but they never did enough.

Of course, she tried to laugh at their attempts. She still went out with the other lieutenants and, at those times, no one could doubt her personality for very long. She was still a vivacious drinker, and threw her bust around in a way only the bubbly woman could do. She teased poor men until they had to excuse themselves to the bathroom for a few minutes, and she constantly attempted to be the matchmaker, particularly for her cold captain.

The worst was, he realized, that her antics worked. Whenever he caught her gazing too long at her fingers, she would brush away his worry and immediately attempt to do the next irritating thing that would distract him.

Do you see the resemblance, reader? She was the same as Toshiro. Actually, it'd be more accurate to say Toshiro was the same as her, and she was the same as that smooth tree that was infested with those beetles.

So why was everyone so surprised when she had frozen in that battle against what was supposed to be a weak hollow? Even if Rangiku was similar to the tree, she's not a tree. A tree is dead in the sense that it can't truly move to defend itself from the beetles, but she was different. In a split second, she saw that perhaps she could destroy the beetles and die for good. She'd be rid of them. That split second was all that was needed before the hollow thrust its poisoned claws through her stomach.

The thing is, however, is that the beetles never die. They simply move on from one host to the closest one. In this case, they leaped to the person most susceptible to their presence.

_Enough!_

He was practically roaring in frustration. Only years of practiced discipline made it so that his howls were merely mental. He couldn't stand another terrible moment in this forsaken room with those empty, useless pieces of flesh that were his so called subordinates calling to him at every moment with their pudgy fingers and stupid faces. If one more order came flying at him through that window, he was pretty certain he'd lose his sanity.

A pause. A brief moment of hesitation. He glanced at the papers on his desk. They needed to be done, and his responsible side hissed in his conscious to be the person to finish them. Perhaps he began to turn slightly towards the left, arms poised as if ready to grab that pen once again.

Fuck it.

He didn't need any more responsibility. He didn't need any more endless piles of paper to delve into, armed only with his pen and the slight licks of sanity that he was desperately clinging to.

No, Toshiro needed quite the opposite. Hyorinmaru was at his side, calling to him, beckoning for the pale fingers of his master to grasp the elaborate hilt. Toshiro's fingers itched.

He needed to kill something.

* * *

><p>It was the withheld breath that surprised her, not the forced excitement of tone. She didn't expect much else from the cold gaze of Hisagi. He'd always been a little more than indifferent to her, and she had never truly minded. She had never cared to get closer with the spiky haired lieutenant. The only real closeness she had felt with him were the few occasions they had both had to carry Rangiku home after a long night. Even then, he had hardly spared her a second glance.<p>

She knew why, of course. He hated her. He wouldn't say it, but she could feel it. He loathed her, blamed her for the things she had done and a few things that she hadn't done, but had quietly accepted the guilt for.

Beside him, Kiyone and Sentaro shared none of his ambiguous detachment. Instead, they congratulated her heartily, began to bicker about something, and then congratulated her again. It surprised Rukia, but she didn't show it. One would expect the two to be put off that the little noble girl had surpassed them both when they had fought so hard (especially against each other) to be promoted to lieutenant, but instead they were ecstatic. Rukia could tell, because the two never fought this meanly.

Still, she didn't do much to return their feelings. Sure, she gave them a practiced smile and a kindly bow, to which Kiyone burst that Rukia need not be so formal. Of course, this set out another bout against Sentaro.

It was meant to be a quiet ceremony, that's what Rukia had requested, but nothing was quiet with those two around. Feeling slightly awkward, she tried to glance quickly at Hisagi without him noticing. No such luck, his stone gaze met her violet ones. She tried not to feel ashamed when she lowered her own eyes so she wouldn't have to stare into the depth of his fire. If she stared too long, she might go blind.

The door slid open from beside them, and Kiyone and Sentaro halted to see the new intruder. Rukia raised herself as well, and Hisagi broke from his angry glare to try and stare a new hole into the wall.

The long white hair and kind smile marked the 13th squad's Captain's appearance. Rukia immediately bowed with respect while Kiyone and Sentaro began to squabble about something else. From her bow, Rukia snuck a look at Ukitake. He seemed to be standing strong, but the gray bags beneath his eyes and lines that marked up his forehead belied his sickness.

_He's been sicker than usual lately._

A chord in Rukia suddenly seemed to sound. She was struck by its strength as it screamed slightly in her ears. For a moment, she felt almost desperate. What would she do if Ukitake died as well? He was one of the few that still held her high in his esteem. He wasn't one that talked about her, unless discussing her duties. He showed her only understanding and kindness, and she was certain she'd drown if he was gone as well.

"I'm fine." He was speaking, but she had hardly noticed. He was talking to Hisagi, who seemed to also noticed the Captain's frailness. While a cough seemed to struggle in Ukitake's throat, he forced it down, if only to prove a point. "I'm just here to check up on you. So, Rukia, how does it feel to be a lieutenant now?"

His smile was too warm, and if she were any weaker, she would have burst into tears. As it was, she actually found herself smiling back. It wasn't the practiced smile she had stiffly delivered to Kiyone and Sentaro, it was one that emanated some warmth of its own. She gave a slight bow. She may not have wanted to be a lieutenant, but how could she not thank this man?

"It's wonderful. Thank you, Captain." She responded, straightening to meet his eyes. There was something shrewd in that gaze of his, but he merely nodded in reply. For now, at least, he was satisfied with her answer.

"Good." He replied. He turned to Hisagi, not seeming to respond to the cold that the other lieutenant was giving off. "Thank you for agreeing to do this. I would have come sooner, but I had other plans." An apologetic smile. Something in Rukia's gut twisted, telling her that he hadn't been late simply because he had tea.

She didn't have any time to mull over this, though, as Ukitake began to address her again. "Rukia, I met your brother on the way over here. Captain Kuchiki wants you to go back to the manor as soon as you're done here. He wouldn't tell me why, but it seems as if it was urgent." He smiled almost apologetically, but Rukia only nodded.

It had to be only a matter of time, right? A meeting with the council. It wasn't what Ukitake has said, but she knew that's what it entailed. However much she despised going, though, she didn't have much choice in the matter.

"Yes, Captain." She responded, bowing once more before taking her leave. Politely, she thanked both Kiyone and Sentaro. She dropped her eyes as she thanked Hisagi, trying to shut out the cold when he responded rather frigidly.

When she turned, she ignored the fact his gray stare was piercing whatever heart she had left.

* * *

><p><em>It's dead.<em>

_It's dead. It's dead. It's dead. It's dead. It's dead._

It was dead, he knew. The creature didn't stand a chance, and even though its skin was beginning to dissolve in that pattern of black ripples that accompanied hollows, he was still unleashing a barrage of attacks against its legs. Chunks of hollow flesh were sliced and ripped from bone and flew into the air, only to dissipate almost immediately. Long string of crimson blood whistled after the skin and splotched the ground, his clothes, and his skin.

By the time the hollow had completely faded away, its legs had been merely white bone with a few pieces of meat still attached, and Toshiro could hardly feel his fingers.

He didn't notice, but his hands were bleeding from how tightly he gripped the hilt.

Yet it wasn't enough. Anger and frustration and a scream of utter despair was building up in his body. But he was Toshiro Hitsugaya. He didn't cry, nor did he scream. So what choice did he have, but to vent his sorrow through the only being that continued to stay at his side? Only Hyorinmaru could fathom his pain, and the blade stayed strangely silent.

The ice dragon would never admit that it was because he was afraid.

From behind Toshiro, another growl was heard. A hollow, attracted by the sounds of blade against flesh, and in its complete stupidity, it had merely found a soul reaper. The beast licked its lips. In its own mind, it saw the white haired boy as another snack. It took a step forward, ready to attack. In its simplicity, the beast missed the almost animalistic rage that passed over the Captain's face.

Revenge was oh so sweet, and Toshiro wasn't planning on letting his prey die that easily this time.

* * *

><p>"Rukia, do you know why you're here?"<p>

It's a rhetorical question, but it's made ridiculous by the fact the man asking it is holding her in his stare, as if expecting her to read his mind and answer. At one point, she might have cared enough to play along with his little game. However, she found that she was using nearly all of her energy attempting to not look exhausted in his presence, and it was prudent to say that speaking would easily ruin that fragile façade.

Of course, he wasn't planning on continuing until she answered. Come on, they may not be getting any younger, but what else do these elders have to do today? They'll probably end up playing some sort of old person game under the boughs of the cherry trees while servants bring them tea. Oh yes, they have all the time in the world to waste.

So she mustered up her voice, gathering some of her strength from the frigid glare her brother was giving off. It was a strange place to absorb strength, but the coldness that emanated off of him seemed to fill her with a type of freshness that revived her lungs.

"No, sir, I do not." She responded in her most noble of tongue, the one that was cold and condescending and respectful in all of the right places. Her tutors would have been proud.

A docile answer from the normally fiery girl, but the elder seemed pleased with this answer. It was respect, and he swelled a little bit from the swathe of power he suddenly felt he had divinely earned.

Outside, dark and light clashed together in a passionate dance. The lightning flashes and rumbling growls didn't go unnoticed by all of the council. The elders shifted uncomfortably. The power of light and shadow was humbling even for these men, and these men didn't like to be humbled.

In Rukia's case, she suddenly wished that she was out in that downpour. Maybe the torrent of rain would be enough to finally wash her clean, although she doubted it. Perhaps it'd be enough to numb her, though.

The elder cleared his throat, continuing his phony show of prowess. To his side, although he'd never admit it, Byakuya practically rolled his eyes in the childish way he'd been taught never to do. Really, though, it was all but necessary. Who were they trying to impress?

"You have been summoned for a special mission, Rukia." The elder began. "However, it is one of utmost secrecy. It has been approved by the grand Master Yamamoto, but you are to tell no one outside of this room of it unless designated. Do you understand?"

Oh, how she loathed that empty glare of his. He was trying to pin her down, and it made her feel slippery. Why did they bother with her? What was the point? She cast a sneaky glance at Byakuya that went unnoticed. Was this his idea? Had he pressed the council for some sort of intervention on her part? For some reason, that idea didn't set very well with her. Perhaps it was because, although her brother had never said such a thing, she knew how much he detested the petty actions of the council.

Still, she was a type of helpless. She couldn't help but go along with whatever plans these men had concocted, so she merely nodded. "Yes, I do understand." She responded with her noble voice. It wasn't truly the time or place, but she couldn't help but marvel at how cool she sounded. With her placid features and irreverent tone, none of them could ever guess that she was actually bleeding to death internally.

Fools.

The elder nodded, ready to move forward. "Good." He spoke. "You see, for the past few months, Captain Kurotsuchi has been conducting many experiments, some of which are quite distasteful, but a few of them have been on the thing that unleashed the toxin."

That got her attention.

Her violet gaze snapped up towards the elder, only to snap away again. Noble girls didn't look the elders in the eye, but the man seemed to understand her shock.

The being.

They didn't know what it was, but everything was its fault.

It had unleashed the poison. It had forced all of Rukia's friends to become sick. It was the reason Orihime and Chad and Tatsuki and Ichigo had… had…

On her lap, her tiny hands curled into tiny fists. She may be small, but shadow almost writhed in pain with the intensity that she gripped her own wear.

The being. She didn't know what it was, but she did know one thing.

She would murder it, slowly and painfully, until it understood all of the pain it had reaped upon her. She didn't know what it was, but she hated it with her entire being.

"What is it I should do?" She spoke up. The elder blinked as he watched the girl carefully. Would he be wrong to say that a new fire seemed to burn in that voice of hers?

* * *

><p>By the time he returned to his place that night, his robes were hardly ripped, but it was hard to see the paleness of his skin underneath the layer of rusty blood that now coated him. His limbs moved with much begrudging – he was exhausted, and not just physically. His mind was aching from his excursion, and while he desired nothing more than the sweet relief of sleep, he tore the clothes from his body and prepared for a shower. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to watch how the water seemed to reanimate the blood, turning it a healthy red before it swirled down the drain.<p>

His clothes were shoved haphazardly into a tub of cold water, the secret, he knew, to getting rid of blood stains. He wrapped the warmer of his night robes around his body. It was still summer outside, but the sky threatened rain as it had the night before, and the thought of waking up in another of those cold sweats didn't set well with Toshiro.

White hair stuck slightly to his skin still as he let the mop on his head dry in the air. He was hesitant, but he made his way towards his desk. His body screamed exhaustion, but his mind wasn't yet ready. He was fatigued, but sleep was almost terrifying. In the safety of the shower he had thought it a haven, but he was once again realizing the terror of allowing his mind to swim in its own thoughts with no one around to hear him struggle.

Even though he had an overhead light, he opted to light a candle. The gentle yellow light that flickered as it fought for dominance against shadow seemed to tickle the hairs on his hand. He sat cross legged, picking up the pencil with his hand. The squares of paper seemed suddenly daunting, but his mind was numb. He began his work, knowing to distract himself. Maybe if he worked without stop until the morning, he wouldn't have to sleep. Maybe, if he continued until the sun began to rise again, the terrors would leave him alone.

Now set with determination, the room continued to be empty, save for the scratch of the pen against paper, and the flicker of a lonely flame.

* * *

><p><em>When he had looked at her with those determined eyes, she had believed him.<em>

_It wasn't that stupid of her, no matter what anyone else said. How could she have doubted him? How could she have refused those burning eyes, even as he was wasting away before her? Those eyes… she had seen that fire so many times, and every moment before, he had always won. That was the look he got when he knew he was about to win, when he was ready to make those who screamed the impossible shut up in order to make way for his determination._

_He didn't win, though. His fire had burned so strongly… so strongly! He was so ready to survive, so why couldn't he? Why couldn't the man who had almost single handedly saved Soul Society (saved her) beat this? _

_She was by his bed, since he refused to stay in the hospital. She remembered Yuzu calling at the door, asking if she could come in, but he pretended to be comatose. He didn't want his sister to see him like that, and she was only a little judgmental of his choice. Karin knew better, but she played along. Isshin hadn't been there for days._

_His forehead was slick with layers of sweat. She watched as his brow furrowed and his lips tightened. Others would hardly notice the difference, but she knew, and her heart tightened as she saw his pain. She picked up the cold, damp cloth and pressed it against his forehead. He grunted slightly, opening one of his eyes._

_Her breath caught in her throat. She was always amazed and exhilarated by that amber gaze, even when he lay so frail. It burned like a wildfire, sending a warmth through her body that heated her fingertips. He could hardly spare the strength to smile, but he forced the corners of his lips upwards, just for her sake._

_He parted his lips, and a slight _whoosh_ of air slipped out. She allowed herself a thin smile as well, but she sensed hers was a little less strained. _

"_What are you still doing here?" He rasped, and her smile immediately faltered. Her eyebrows raised slightly with surprise, and then irritation as she had to stop him from attempting to sit up. "Fool." She told him accusingly, pink lips forming a thin line. "Don't strain yourself."_

_He struggled against her hands, but then relented as she forced him back down. "I'm fine, midget." He seethed through clenched teeth, and she forced herself not to wince at his pain. He was still staring at her with those eyes, though. She thought maybe, just maybe, while his eyes are burning with that spark, he will be fine. _

_He closed his eyes again, but he called her name. She leaned down closer, ready to hear what he has to say, but she was met with his shuddering breath. He's reduced to the shivers that the fever forced on him. Straightening, she continued to clean his face with the cooling touch of the rag. Tears threatened to pool at the base of her lids, but she refused them. She won't cry now, not when fate hasn't been decided. At least, that is what she told herself. Too bad, however, as fate had been decided a long time ago._

* * *

><p>He was tired.<p>

Not just a little tired, but exhausted. He was fatigued, born weary, and drained with his lack of sleep. If he had glanced at himself in the mirror, he would be shocked with his own reflection. Underneath his eyes was dark and baggy, and his normally very clear gaze was bloodshot. Usually tan skin was pale, and his eyelids seemed to droop.

She was surprised at this, but not all that much, for she sure her own reflection didn't show anything much better. Her spiritual pressure still didn't compare.

Someone nudged her, and she moved her gaze from the quailed captain to the reason she was here. It was a hurried command, one hissed to her by an annoyed unseated officer who was humiliated to be reduced to mere message delivery. She had arrived as soon as she could, somewhat relieved when the distraction pulled her away from the duty of attending Orihime's burial. Perhaps it was selfish, but she wasn't sure if she could stand the heart ache when she watched the once bubbly, sweet girl be lowered into the ground.

She recognized the familiar brown spiked hair of Akon, who stood by the Captain Commander's desk. He was speaking, but Rukia realized she hadn't truly heard much of what he'd said.

Luckily, he had only just began talking. His firm voice continued to lilt the room, as he reported on Mayuri's research:

"From what we've been able to tell, the being responsible for what has happened is some sort of hollow. Although it has a rather slow intelligence, it bases all of its decision on instinct, which makes it nearly impossible to track.

"As we've seen before, the hollow, while, like others, takes a special interest in Soul Reapers. From what we can tell, the hollow has the ability to dispel parasites from its body. These parasites attach to nearby hosts, normally soul reapers, and feeds on their spiritual energy."

He halted here for a moment, just to make sure everyone understood. No one nodded, nor truly acknowledged what he said. But they all watched him, and he took this as the encouragement to continue.

"At least, that's all we thought before. We assumed that the parasite simply feeds on the life force of a person, but it actually destroys the body from the inside."

Toshiro shifted, and Rukia glanced at him for a moment. He seemed confused, but Akon simply plowed on, not bothering to address the man.

"Through Captain Kurotsuchi's research, we've found that the parasite kills people by shutting down all of a person's internal organs. Normally, this process is very fast, but with the help of the fourth squad, it has been prolonged. Unfortunately, there's not a cure for this. Unless you kill the parasite, it'll continue to destroy the inside of the body, no matter how many times it is healed."

She wanted to shut her ears against this noise. She knew how it happened. She had watched it destroy her friends, one by one. Painfully. Slowly. She wanted to yell out how it mattered, but years of forced placidity trained her features smooth.

Yamamoto, as if sensing her rigidity, began to speak. "The reason we have called you here is because the department of research and development thinks they have found a way to track the hollow itself."

"Indeed." Akon interrupted, now in full teaching mode. "What we've found is after the host dies, the parasite returns to the original hollow. We believe we can track the parasite back to the location of the hollow, then perhaps we can find a way to defeat the hollow."

The man then halted, letting Yamamoto take over. "That's why we have called on you four, to track down the parasite. If you can find the hollow, then Captain Kurotsuchi can conduct more research on it. Under no circumstances are you to engage the hollow without a battle plan, is this understood?" His penetrating gaze scoured over each of them, seeming to pierce through them. Rukia found herself unable to do anything but acquiesce.

"Captain Commander." The voice was smooth but cold, and she had to force herself not to flinch. She had refused to look at the dark haired gray eyed man for the entire meeting, but the waves of icy hatred emanating off of him were hard to ignore.

It was odd, someone who wielded such a blade of ice as her would feel the sting of cold so deeply.

He plowed on, not seeming to notice her reserve. "I have a question. How do we plan on following the parasites. All of those infected with the parasites were already killed."

His voice, so flat, made Rukia want to snarl at him. She wanted to scream, ask him how it was he could be so impartial. Was he punishing her? Trying to force her guilt for something that tore her apart every day?

Her anger fell flat, however, and it merely manifested as a small sigh escaping her lips. She swallowed her fury, and was surprised to find another voice speaking up next to her.

"Orihime Inoue only succumbed a couple of days ago, correct?" Toshiro now spoke. He may have been tired, but he wasn't stupid. He sense the Kuchiki girl next to him tensing when Hisagi spoke, and although the white haired man had no idea why, the way Hisagi phrased her death so coldly made his own skin prickle.

Akon nodded, not seeming to care for the tension in the room. "Exactly. We have captured the parasite that was inside Orihime Inoue." He said. "Within a few days, we'll be ready to release it, and for you all to follow it."

Silence fell over the room for a moment, and Toshiro is aware of the sound of hitched breathing, irregular and nervous. He's surprised when he linked the sound to the tall form of Hisagi Shuhei, instead of the petite girl. The cold that seemed to secrete from the man is no longer there. Instead, the air is thick with a resolve.

So, he realized, this is revenge.

On his left is Izuru Kira, the platonic blonde not bothering to speak at all. His blue eyes were trained forward, refusing to meet any gaze offered towards him. For a moment Toshiro wanted to ask why exactly the four of them were chosen. They weren't even part of the same squad. But he then realized it was because of the motive all four of them had. None of them would mind the most likely painstaking work of following a parasite to find a hollow. The end result would taste just so tantalizingly bittersweet.

"You will all be informed when the parasite is to be released." Yamamoto said, guttural voice thrumming through the thick air. "Until then, you are dismissed."

* * *

><p>She'd by lying if she wished for Hisagi to forgive her.<p>

In truth, Rukia thought, she'd never been very close to Hisagi. In fact, one of her most recent memories of him was when he was content in killing her, before Orihime had interfered. It wasn't that he was a bad person, she knew. He would lay his life on the line for his friends and for those he didn't know, simply because it was his duty.

And yet…

She hated him.

"Lieutenant Kuchiki?" A voice called, and she turned on its command. Upon eying the man, she recognized the blonde fringe as Izuru. She blinked her large violet eyes at him curiously. He had remained silent throughout the meeting, and she had thought herself the only one to linger after the Captain Commander had dismissed them. With a twinge of embarrassment, she realized she hadn't even sensed the other lieutenant. With her brother in mind, she reminded herself nobility wasn't supposed to be so negligent.

"Yes?" She responded to him quietly, having to lift her chin slightly to meet his blue gaze. As always, he appeared nervous, although she would contribute that to a placid nature. He had always been understanding and kind, or, at least, that's what she had always gathered of him. With a twinge, she remembered how close he and Renji had been…

Rukia blinked a couple of times to make sure no tears gathered in her eyes. Izuru didn't seem to notice. "About Lieutenant Shuhei…" He began, but then trailed off, voice breaking slightly. He looked at her with a type of hopefulness, as if thinking that maybe she'd understand what he wanted to say. However, she wouldn't say anything in return. Her shoulders tensed up in what he knew as unwelcome. She didn't want to talk about these matters, least of all to someone she didn't really know.

Still, there was something on his chest, and he wanted to say it. He didn't want her to hate his friend, no matter how much he deserved it. He took a deep breath, and the result was his following sentence escaping in a harried rush of words. "He was really close to Rangiku, you know? I'm sure he doesn't really blame you, but…"

He stopped, and she was almost hyperventilating with fury. How dare he? How dare anyone pin that death on her? If anything it was the negligence of those closest to her, of those who had watched her spiraling-

Oh.

He watched her shoulders deflate as something seemed to click inside her mind. Of course, she was only blind to not see it before. Perhaps not blind, but preoccupied. With a guilty flash, she realized it was because she hadn't spared much thought for the busty lieutenant. In fact, there relationship had been mostly based on the burn of alcohol trailing down her throat.

"Thanks, Lieutenant Kira." She told him, but her voice is no longer focused on him. In fact, her violet eyes have turned away, and she seemed to stare down the hall. He opened his mouth to reply to her, but she then turned to leave.

Her feet clicked quietly against the floor as she walked away. He gulped slightly, suddenly unsure. For the sake of his friend, Izuru would never admit how close the two really were. When he looked at Hisagi, he saw a man whose sanity hinged on whether or not the busty woman would recover.

But when he saw Rukia, he saw something so much more broken. He saw someone who had once taken pride in clearing up the rainy skies of someone she had loved, but now no one was there to hold out an umbrella for her. And how could he blame her? In the span of a few years, she had lost so much.

He tipped his head upwards, although all he saw was a bland ceiling. Then, all he could wonder was what a certain red haired man would say to her if he were still alive.

* * *

><p>The sound of home was welcoming, but she ignored its call. She could have went back through the many rooms, most of them cold and empty, to get back to her own. She could have let the torrent of a warm bath wash away the grime of her day, but she didn't. As welcoming as it sounded, all that she thought was there were more memories.<p>

Memories… the things that took hold of her brain and seemed to nibble little by little at her sanity. Any moment she thought she may fall prey to her delusions and unleash whatever power she had hidden on those around her. She wished she could control the weather as the white haired Captain could. Maybe then the skies would match her outlook.

So Hisagi blamed her because he wasn't sure how to blame himself, how to take responsibility for what role he'd played in the accident. The worst was she wasn't sure how to hate him for that, and she was practically willing to shoulder that weight for him, only because she wasn't sure what a friendly touch felt like anymore.

Her feet continued to step, but she froze when she saw a flash of orange. Her violet eyes widened, and a slight sigh escaped her lips. Her feet were stopped midstep, even after she recognized the flash of orange as belong to a small, stray cat.

Her eyes grew wet, but her pride refused to allow her to cry. No matter how many memories toppled through her brain, tearing at all of her determination, she would. Not. Cry.

No, but she'd scream. She would inhale her sadness and release it as anger. She'd unleash Sode no Shirayuki and leave a trail of carnage behind her. Trees would be sliced and cut, and a few would even cave and topple to the ground below. Grass would sway with the ferocious breezes, and would sometimes even completely freeze, despite the warmth of the sun as it slid behind a cold horizon.

She would grip her hilt so hard blood would trickle from her palms. Her raven hair would become disheveled, and her chest would heave so hard she'd think her heart might burst. And the whole time, as she let the quiet of nature be ripped apart by her secret storm, she'd tell herself that the liquid dripping down her cheeks, the saltiness she tasted that entered her mouth, were not tears. Because she wouldn't cry, she had promised Ichigo. She wouldn't cry.

_She had known his lips so well, the warmth of the plump skin and the promise of something so sweet. But when she had leaned down the last time, there was no longer any warmth, no longer any promises. His fire had disappeared, and what was left were the cold lips of some sort of doll. His hands were no longer his hands, they were the hands of a manikin. His eyes had no more fire, they were amber marbles. And in her ears rang the rough baritone that was his voice, the cadence of words she'd always wanted to hear, but never in that way._

_Never right before the fire had left his eyes, when he had realized that no matter how much he fought, he couldn't control the limitations that made him human. _

When she regained her breath, she observed the damage she had done. Her hands ached with a dull pain, and she welcomed the physical release. It made her thoughts slower and kinder.

She observed the carnage with detachment, as if some sort of natural disaster had caused it. She sat on a tree that had come crashing down, and she felt glad she had distanced herself so far from anyone, as she didn't know what she'd say if someone came, wondering why she was there and what had happened.

If someone asked, she speculated, would she tell them everything? Would she tell them what had happened? Would it truly matter, as only those who had been through what she had would understand, and those people didn't need words.

She looked up, and found that the sky had turned black without her noticing. The moon was but a sliver crescent, and shadow had found its domain. It danced beneath the base of the trees, and the wind sang its approval. The stars that began to twinkle in the darkening sky were too bright for Rukia, and she settled her eyes on the small pockets of ice on the ground.

Color is blind, if you didn't know. Light is too bright to see beyond itself. So, by default, shadow is truly the one who sees and knows the most.

That's why most people are so afraid of shadow. Shadow sees everything, and if you let yourself be truly embraced by it, then you would see everything shadow sees. However, naturally, people are afraid of what they don't know, and the unknown is everything shadow offers. Shadow offers everything it knows, but shadow doesn't bias what is gives. By allowing shadow as a teacher, one learns everything, things they want to know, and many things they don't want to know.

The hand grasped for something it knew, but Rukia recoiled from the familiar. She had already been cut from that line, and was adrift in an endless ocean, one that threatened to drown her with the height of its waves. She was dying to reach port, but if she ended up on the same shores, she might truly go insane.

So she left behind evidence of her pain, with only the slight imprint of spiritual pressure to remain. She set out into the woods, knowing her legs will carry her instinctually to where she needed to go. Inside her, her heart was beating constantly. So many had left their hearts with her… Kaien, Orihime, Renji, Chad, Uryuu, Ichigo... They had all trusted her to keep their hearts safe. And with that responsibility, her own heart sang.

In the back of her mind, she hoped her brother wouldn't worry. Even with his stone face, she remembered when he had asked her if she were okay, right after Chad had succumbed. A selfish part of her wished she could have relied on him more to uphold her emotionally, but the practical sense knew he was as emotionally damaged as she was.

He was the one she didn't have to tell what happened for him to understand, and sometimes his companionability with true silence set her mind at ease when it was fuzzy with the words of those around her.

Even with the thought, though, she didn't stop. She felt as if something were calling her, and who was she to deny it? The wind cushioned her back, and the grass bent at her feet. The moon and stars provided the little light she needed, and her unrelenting legs kept her going.

* * *

><p>The grave was lonely, he thought.<p>

It was well past midnight, but he refused to go home, knowing if he did, he wouldn't be able to resist the call of sleep. He wasn't even sure why he'd chosen this, of all places, but for some reason it had seemed so warm.

The grass before the grave was covered by a bouquet of flowers. They were colorful, but the most striking was the large orange blossom, highlighted by the many small white petals. The name was inscribed on the wooden plank, but he wasn't completely sure why they had refused to send her body back to the world of the living.

Weren't there people there that missed the sweet girl? Yet, when he considered, he supposed this was better. He raised his eyes, seeing the graves of the others who had died. They were close together, just as they always had been in life.

He regretted missing the burial.

Behind him, the grass bended. He inhaled quietly, turning on his heel in surprise. His hand went to his waist, fingers immediately searching for the comfort of the hilt of his blade. His blood began to boil, moving faster in his veins. He was ready to attack, but then he recognized the tiny figure that appeared.

She stopped when she saw him as well, violet blue eyes widening slightly with surprise. She hadn't thought anyone would be here… but then again, she hadn't been sure where she'd been going. Her instincts had brought her here, yet she felt almost vulnerable against the tired gaze of the white haired man.

He didn't say anything outright, so she didn't leave. She stepped forward, joining his side in front of the graves. She didn't think Orihime's grave was lonely, she thought it was free. In her last days, the girl had been a shadow of her former self. Rukia suppressed a shiver when she recalled the sunken in cheeks and eyes, along with pale, clammy skin and dull, dead eyes. Eyes, just like Ichigo's eyes. Eyes that had lost their fire, that had accepted their fate.

She hated those eyes.

Beside her, Toshiro was lost in thoughts of his own, thoughts of exhaustion and sadness. He wondered if he'd eventually just collapse from lack of sleep. Maybe no one would notice. Maybe he'd simply wither away.

"It's funny." He said quietly, and she blinked her eyes. She didn't reply, and she sensed he didn't want her to. He was thinking out loud, and she was merely the standby. "Funny, how this is where we ended up."

He didn't expect her to reply, he wasn't even sure where those words had come from. Funny, he wondered? Yes, he supposed it was. They had destroyed the most evil man to threaten Soul Society, had squashed his plan. Then they were brought down by a simple minded hollow with an ability that caught even the strongest of men by surprise.

So yes, he supposed, it was, in a humorless way, funny.

She spoke up, though, and he glanced at her as she talked. "Not funny." She corrected him, violet gaze refusing to leave the painful grave within the ground. "Not funny. But sad, very sad."

She walked away then, and he followed her with his teal gaze. Her voice was so smooth, but when he glanced in her eyes, he saw nothing but a broken sadness, a despair too jagged to ever heal properly. Like a wound that could be covered, but would never be totally gone.

A flash in his mind, and he realized he admired her. At least she didn't deny her sadness, in the way he refused his.

Almost resolute, he returned back to his room. Although he refused to fall asleep right away, he found himself dozing off every now and then. He would catch his head lolling on his shoulder, and he would snap back awake, feeling suddenly refreshed from the short nap.

When he woke up the next day, he didn't spare a second thought in thinking the night terrors hadn't visited him. He had been awoken permanently during the middle of the night, though, when the threat of rain became a reality, and a torrent of water drops slammed against the ground. In the sky, light and shadow screamed at each other as they stormed across the sky, fighting for dominance. Neither ever won, though. And even with shadow so determined to beat its antonym, it still had time to nip at Toshiro's heels.

* * *

><p>Hm, in my mind, this is actually coming together alright. Didn't think I'd ever manage to put up a third chapter, although I'm glad I finally did.<p>

Sorry if it's confusing or depressing, I suppose that's just the way this story seemed to go.

Anyways, questions? Comments? Concerns? Desires to tell me your life story? I am always interested in hearing what you have to say! (you know, except for the really stupid stuff)

Oh, and once again, I apologize for any errors. I don't have a beta and I don't proofread my stories, so this version is as raw as it gets.


	4. See the Devil Dance Again

Well. This is embarrassing.

Nearly a year without an update, and that's rather shameful for me. I honestly do try to update, because I hate getting into a story and never getting to see how it ends.

However, before I continued, I laid out a plan for the rest of the chapters. Assuming I'm able to continue updating at least once or twice a month, I should have this story done by the end of the year.

Honestly, I've never suffered from so much writer's block from a single story, it's almost painful. When I finished this, I was once again too lazy to beta. Let me know if there are mistakes (specifically) so I can change them.

And for those at this point who actually still care about where this story is going, well, let's get this long and way overdue show on the road.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"<em>We, the unwilling, led by the unknowing, <em>

_are doing the impossible for the ungrateful. _

_We have done so much, for so long, with so little, _

_we are now qualified to do anything with nothing."_

_ -Konstantin Josef Jire__ček_

* * *

><p>Opposites are strange things, wouldn't you say?<p>

They define each other, and you can't say 'black' without then thinking about 'white'. They are inherently the most different that they can be, and they can't stand to be in the same space unless a little of the other is within them.

Opposites attract, because without one, the other wouldn't exist. You, of course, know this to be true, because this story has spent so much time highlighting the way shadow complimented light. The way the clash and fight and constantly challenge the borders they set for each other is enough to prove to anyone the pure blame too opposites can impose on each other.

But not all opposites get along so harshly. Take, for example, the moon and the ocean. Their existence is pure harmony. Without the moon, the ocean wouldn't be able to dance, and the moon loves the fact it has a way to be seen on the earth without looking up.

He wasn't a bad person, Hisagi Shūhei. Rough around the edges and maybe a little emotionally detached, but on the whole, he's respected. He led with the same bravado that the _old_ captain Tosen had – that bloodshed was the weakest form of killing. Death should be simple and neat, if even necessary.

But the only thing that ran deeper than his honor was his love for a certain woman. She was (_is!_) amazing, with not just looks that could kill, but a personality that invited people in. As much as all others would claim her a tease, he knew she only enjoyed having fun, even at another's expense.

He visited her once, write after the accident. He had seen the weakness in her limbs, and the shallow ashy gray of her face. He practically puked on sight, and had stumbled, weak, from the room.

Ever since that day, he hadn't come back.

"She probably misses you." Kira remarked one day when they were out training. They had been lying in the grass, taking a well deserved break when the heat of the sun beat down upon them. "You should visit her."

Hisagi contemplated that, but then shook his head. Perhaps she did miss him, but he truly didn't think she would really care. Still, he said, "alright."

He even tried a few times, but he never got closer than a few yards away. Every time he approached, the grotesque memory would enter his brain, and he had no choice to either turn away or retch.

It was where he was today, just after receiving news of his new mission. For some reason or another, he felt he owed it to the busty blonde to tell her what was happening. Despite the fact that she had had so many friends, very few dared visit her.

So he had tried. He wandered closer and closer, telling himself that the recovery wing wasn't really where he was going. It just happened to be his path. He took many detours, and stopped at modest shops along the way. Each step seemed to work.

He was nearly at the doors when his mind fully caught on to what he already knew he was going to do. He teetered on the edge, fully believing that, since he had come so far, he could go a few steps forward.

With a will power that could crush with a glance, he took a few more steps. They were tottering and unsteady, and he mightily ignored the quick glances of curious sympathy thrown his way.

But the image of her, sick and helpless in a bed, flashed in his mind. Without warning, waves of nausea slapped him hard in the stomach. His hands started to shake, and his skin went sheet white. Sweat beaded nervously on his skin, and he instinctively knew he was too weak for this. Immediately, he turned around and fled.

This time, he didn't really know where he was heading until he was standing outside of the familiar door. The way it arched and glowed with common wood was friendly and inviting in the way it promised to let him forget. Without hesitation, he held out a hand to the cool doorknob, finding the door unlocked.

"Hey, Hisagi." Kira greeted him casually, as they always did when they were alone. They knew each other well enough, that Hisagi didn't bother to knock whenever he entered the house.

To speak of opposites would be to describe the pure clashing difference between Hisagi and Kira. While Kira spoke kind and patient words to those around him, Hisagi would turn his back coldly on those whose accomplishments were too weak for him to give respect. But in battle, Hisagi was the one constantly afraid of the evil his blade could unleash, while Kira would fight with no hesitation if it meant saving lives.

They were completely different, but no two friends have complimented each other too well. As the moon and the ocean are, Kira would seek Hisagi for a reason to laugh, while the latter counted on the former for bouts of sane, conscious thought.

Upon entering, Kira immediately sensed something off in his friend. If not just for the ashen skin and dull gaze, he could see it in the way he slouched. Hisagi always strode tall, as if his hair was meant to scratch the clouds. He hardly ever walked with his shoulders so bowed, and the blonde man almost felt the waves of defeat emit from his friend.

Soundlessly, he poured them both a cup of sake, inviting as Hisagi sat cross legged across from him. Papers littered the desk from Kira's last report, which he had been working on before his friend entered. Neatly, he stacked them and pushed them to the edge, to be remembered and finished later.

They toasted soundlessly, and while Hisagi threw back his drink to relish in the quick burning taste, Kira drank his slowly. Even under the furious temptation of Rangiku, he hardly consumed as quickly as the others did.

Just as well, he was glad Hisagi didn't point out that he has never kept a bottle of sake stored in his house before.

For minutes, they sat in silence, Hisagi drawing strength from the alcohol while Kira waited patiently for him to speak. He didn't need to wait too long, for a few moments later; Hisagi met his gaze and said, "I tried to visit Rangiku."

So that was it, Kira thought it would be. He only showed this same type of physical illness when he tried to visit the busty blond. Kira himself could only convince himself to go to her room because he knew very few others visited. It was painful that he was the only one to change the flowers by her bedside.

Hisagi watched him, expecting Kira to comment on the fact he should have gone. However, instead he said, "I talked with Rukia."

At that, Hisagi stiffened, his placid gaze suddenly becoming flinty and cold. "Talked about what?" He snapped meanly. "There's nothing to discuss with her, she's a murderer, and you know it."

Kira shook his head, feeling wounded for both his friend and the young Kuchiki girl. She was no murderer, even if her blade had once sliced through Lieutenant Shiba's stomach. She had done much to protect Soul Society, and ended up losing much more than she had gained. Still, it had surprised him how easily she had accepted his explanation for Hisagi's hatred.

"She isn't." He said softly, cutting Hisagi off as he tried to snarl disagreement. "I know you don't want to deal with her, but she is powerful enough to be a lieutenant. I just spoke to her because I wanted the two of you to get along. We need to, for this mission."

Hisagi swelled slightly, his hatred for Rukia temporarily forgotten as he recalled the words of Akon and their new target. His hand practically flew to Kazeshini in anticipation. The zanpakuto cackled silently into his ear, and he struggled temporarily to suppress his madness. As much as he longed to destroy the hollow, they had been given strict orders.

The blonde man watched as his friend fought for control of his emotions once again. He sighed, pouring them both more sake, which Hisagi took gratefully. "You know we have to work as a team." He implored, and Hisagi nodded, although a bit reluctantly.

He paused, as a sliced up memory of Rangiku came back to him…

… _sitting alone at a cafeteria table, head in hand and staring obliquely back out into the clear blue sky. She had been becoming more and more distant lately, he noticed. It was rare to see her in such a contemplative mood. Normally she was the first to seek out a friend to go drink with when she managed to avoid the white-haired terror who was her captain._

"_Rangiku?" he called as he approached her, and she jumped slightly. He caught her gaze, and the initial emotion there made him catch his breath. Baited and melancholic, she shoved away the expression quickly to give him one of those brilliant smiles, one that he had always wished belonged to him alone._

_But he had always known it, even if she had never said. She was long ago captured by that silver-haired fox, and in his wily cunning, he never let her slip through his fingers. Never entirely._

"_Hisagi!" She said brightly, pulling him in her typical way to the seat next to him. "Guess what I filched from Captain Kyōkaru's stash?" From her bust she pulled a bottle of sake, one the captain probably wouldn't even miss. _

_He blanched a little, but he could never resist her charms for long. Before he knew what was happening, she talked him into kidnapping Renji and Kira as they laughed together, only to be foiled when Captain Kuchiki found them. _

Even that day, he never saw that empty, glassy look that was on display for everyone to see. But it wasn't just him. Everyone else had missed it, too.

His teeth grit as he thought of Rukia. It was her fault, but he was willing to bury those emotions if he could bury his blade in that damned hollow's face.

Swallowing his fury, he lifted up his sake cup, Kira's blue gaze following his movements. "To Rangiku." He toasted softly, and his friend nodded slowly. They raised their cups solemnly, each wincing as the alcohol left trails of burning warmth down their throats.

* * *

><p>For them, it would be a night of memories shared in the drunken haze that sake offers to those who drink it. Memories are a powerful thing, reader. As important as it is to live in the present, it is impossible to do so without the shadow of the past whispering words of both regret and joy into the ear.<p>

Yet there are too many memories for this story to explain them all. In their golden days, when they are laying down to rest, this story would suggest asking them about their pasts. While society might sometimes condemn the power of the elderly, the gift of wisdom is rare and special.

While they speak, this story will move gently away, to the edge of Soul Society, where the white-haired man sat with his blade at his side.

Have you ever stopped to think of what the opposite of ice is, reader? Most likely, you'd roll your eyes at this story for such a question. Ice is frozen water, isn't it? Doesn't that make fire its opposite?

True, ice stops fire from starting, and fire itself can melt ice. But unlike fire and water, ice and fire can coexist. A fire can burn without ice melting, while ice exists in high mountains where fire deigns to light. So, what then, would be ice's opposite?

Perhaps, reader, the opposite of ice would be water itself. With water being to liquid as ice is to solid, they are opposites that are exactly the same. While in each form, they oppose each other, but eventually water will be ice, and ice will be water, and they will oppose each other again.

The discussion here is trying to point out how similar two things, or people, can be, while still constantly clashing. Just keep this in mind, reader, for it is important.

Ice is Toshiro, as everyone knew. Not only did he wield the dangerous and powerful Hyorinmaru, but he was friend to the chill long before he realized his own powers. It's why, even in the moments he felt his soul cracking, he could constantly seek comfort from his long-time companion.

It wasn't an easy thing to do. Hyorinmaru, by nature, wasn't a very warm or caring individual. Like the glacier, he was proud and stubborn, only showing the very tip of his true being when so many other facets lurked beneath. But as his companion, he has willingly shown Toshiro the things he has learned, just to serve the powerful master.

'_Do you remember the icy plain which he met?'_ Hyorinmaru asked his master, his voice deep and rumbling, as an ice dragons should be.

Toshiro glanced down at his side, where he had placed the blade that normally rested on his back. He would be lying if he said he wasn't surprised at the sudden voice. Hyorinmaru talked to him very rarely recently. He sensed that – even if the blade didn't know Rangiku or Momo as Toshiro did – he felt his wielder's pain as his own.

Even more so, Hyorinmaru sensed those bugs that lurked beneath Toshiro's skin. He knew that he wasn't right, despite how Toshiro attempted to seem normal. Yet, despite their kinship, the dragon blade had no idea how to heal him. That knowledge wounded him enough to keep him quiet.

But now he spoke, as if ready to shed at least some sort of wisdom upon his charge. After all, Hyorinmaru didn't choose the man simply because he knew how to relax in an icy climate. It was because a dragon keeps a protective nature. Someone with so much potential deserved a proper guardian to guide him.

'_I remember_._'_ Toshiro responded after a lapse of silence. On that frozen plain, when Hyorinmaru first managed to call out his name, and Toshiro had been able to hear. It had been one of the most thrilling moments of his life. The dragon had lain down in his palms, and in that moment, he could have sworn a blizzard of ages was brewing inside of him. It was so viciously strong; it had nearly thrown him off his feet. But then he had gripped it strong, and felt the way the hilt complimented his hand. An extension of his own arm, one that could command even the heavens.

The blade was silent for a moment, reveling in the same memories as his partner. '_We've fought many battles since then.'_ The blade said slowly. '_Won many, but lost others.'_

Toshiro nearly shuddered as he recalled the time he first discovered Aizen's betrayal. In his fury, he had flung himself at the captain. The man hadn't even flinched. He just raised a hand and, before he knew it, he was laying on the floor, his body broken.

At that moment, the color orange flashed in his mind. Ichigo, he realized. How such a boy had managed to reel in the power to defeat Aizen was a feat that no other could have accomplished. Awhile ago, Toshiro had even felt jealous of that power. He wished he could be the one to deliver that final blow, and take revenge for Momo.

But that destiny wasn't his, and Hyorinmaru had rounded on him for his childish envy. '_You have a role of your own_._'_ The dragon had berated him furiously. '_Don't think that you can relax because you aren't facing Aizen. You must fight, now.'_

Almost automatically, he thought of Rukia Kuchiki as well, only because her destiny had been so intensely intertwined with Kurosaki's. So closely, in fact, it was almost strange that she had lived while he had passed.

Silence lingered between them, and Hyorinmaru tried again. _'If you are faced with that hollow, will you manage to keep yourself under control?'_

A strange question, Toshiro thought. If anything, he didn't think he himself would be in danger of that. Despite his short temper, he took orders from above very seriously.

Even so, it was that hollow's fault Rangiku herself was so sick.

She had attacked it head on, so it hadn't affected her in the way it affected everyone else. While parasites had lodged inside many, she had merely caught the brunt of the attack. The hollow, as well as having the poisonous parasites, had poison on its claws.

This poison, however, had been meant to kill quickly, to make prey succumb so the hollow could feast. However, Rangiku had been lucky for Isane to be nearby. With her expertise, she had managed to defeat the most aggressive of the poisons.

Unluckily, there were several different toxins inside the poison. Most of them were easy to get rid of, but a couple lingered, refusing to leave. Toshiro had heard Unohana say, when she thought no one else was listening, that the poison in Rangiku's own mind was giving the toxin a harbor of safety.

'_Would you stop me,' _Toshiro finally said to his blade, _'if I couldn't? If I attacked without a second thought?'_

It was the zanpakuto's turn to remain silent. For years, the two had been partners, if not friends. While many soul reapers used their blades as a means to an end, and thought of it as nothing more than a conscious weapon, Toshiro and Hyorinmaru had always known more than that.

Perhaps it was because they were both eerily familiar with the sensation of isolation and loss, or maybe it was simply that they both loved the cold so much, compatibility was nearly a guarantee. Either way, they had always counted and relied on each other in a way that made their bond stronger every time Hyorinmaru lent his power to the young master.

So would Hyorinmaru stop him? It was possible. Very rarely did Hyorinmaru question his judgment. Usually because Toshiro kept a level head, and even when he didn't, the blade tended to agree with him.

'_Maybe.' _Hyorinmaru said, chuckling in a humorless way. It was a dry tone, one that seemed to sum up Toshiro's feelings on the idea very well. _'You're already too sick to get hit by that hollow.'_

It wasn't exactly what he was expecting to hear, and Toshiro stared down at him in surprise. But no matter how much he prodded Hyorinmaru on the matter, the blade fell silent again. Just as he had remained for a long time.

* * *

><p>"Miss Rukia!" A maid gasped, seeing the girl stumble back into the manor. Her clothes were rough and torn, as well as her hair being mussed with wind and rain. She had been out half the night, and the servants would have worried, if not for the fact that they feared what Byakuya would do if he knew his sister was missing.<p>

Yet she barely reacted to the maid's astonished surprise. In her most noble way, Rukia waved her off with a royal wave of her hand. "A late night mission, from Captain Ukitake." She breathed in a calm voice.

The maid nodded, knowing better than to try and get involved when any of the Kuchiki Clan used their regal tones. She bowed hurriedly, rushing off to her next task.

Rukia stared after her, before actually bothering to look down at herself. With grim satisfaction, she thought that if she stayed this way, then maybe everyone who crossed her path would flee with that same look of horror.

Noiselessly, she padded to her own room, suddenly thankful for the way the house sheltered and warmed despite the raging wind that blew outside. Luckily, Toshiro's storm had passed over, but strong clouds still lingered over head, and with it the memory of a furious storm.

It was dank, and for a moment, she was surprised at the un-lived in feel the room had to it. Then, she supposed, she hadn't felt at home there in a long time. Once, it was decorated in the many items she had gathered in the world of the living. By now, though, only the items most precious to her remained and they lay in the back of her closet, gathering dust. It was too painful to leave them in the open.

Now, her walls were blank and her room sparkled with the efforts all the maids gave to try and keep it clean. With a snort, she snapped on the light.

As if on autopilot, she kicked off her shoes and shed her uniform. It was torn, so she left it outside of the door for a servant to pick up and mend. She draped on her night gown, instantly feeling that same petite vulnerability it always carried with it.

Outside her room, the storm separated just enough for the moon to shine silvery light onto the wooden floor. She stared at it for a moment, with a pang, and remembered all those sleepless nights spent trying to capture the silvery tendrils with her hand. Her fingers twitched, as if aching to try one more time.

She was tempted to reach out her hand, just for a moment, but then stopped. Outside her room, she heard the click of brusque feet on the wooden floor. With a start, she recognized her brother's walk. Unlike the servants, who crept and crawled as if scared the large house would swallow them whole if they made too much sound, Byakuya always walked with a purpose to his step. Strong and even, constant and determined. For some reason, such a sound always put her heart a bit at ease.

Sighing, she lay down upon her bed, shutting off the light. The little gap of clouds allowed the moon to glare down beside her. She closed her eyes, and immediately saw the simple grave she had visited earlier.

Long orange hair and a bubbly smile was how she remembered Orihime. With bright brown eyes that shone with every emotion she refused to keep hidden. She was always so warm and forgiving, so willing to help anyone who requested it of her. Fitfully, Rukia couldn't think of anyone more caring.

And she was gone, just like so many others. Once the world had brightened happily when she was the one to smile at the sky. Now it was quiet, and as if agreeing with her, the clouds covered the moon, and she was cut off from the light.

Staring into the pitch dark, her thoughts drifted to the other person she had seen that night. She knew very little of Captain Hitsugaya, other than his fiery reputation. She had met very few who didn't think he wasn't a cold-hearted bastard. Rangiku was the one who always tried to convince her that he wasn't nearly half that bad.

She herself never believed him to be horrible. Sure, intimidating, but after chasing him with Ichigo in order to help save him from past mistakes, she found he had more in common with Ichigo than either would care to admit. That same perseverance, as well as a guilt complex the size of Rokungai.

At this, she chuckled bitterly. She had that same guilt complex, too.

But when she had spoken to him on the hill, he seemed so much different from all the other times they had happened to speak. All the sudden, she had seen a man whose sanity hung from a hair so thin, it was nearly invisible.

She didn't know it then, reader, but she had caught a glimpse of the true Toshiro. The one with bugs determined to keep him healthy.

The clouds shifted again, and this time a slice of light settled over her stomach. Self-consciously, she wrapped her arms around herself. Other nights she would seek the night, now she was scared of it.

Suddenly, she stood up, and for the first time in weeks, she shut the window and the curtain, blocking out the light. Then, she lay back down, closing her eyes defiantly.

As always, terrors lurked there within her mind. Growling resignedly, she curled up beneath her blankets, and tried to imagine someone lingering over her, protecting her.

Anyone, she thought. Anyone.

* * *

><p>The wind eventually died down, reader. The longer the night went on, the more the clouds disappeared. Riding on the breeze, they were swallowed by the horizon, leaving a clear sky of biting stars that would slowly fade when challenged by the light of the sun.<p>

Today, Akon would rub his cheeks as he felt nearly ready to fall over in exhaustion. While he would never ask Captain Kurotsuchi to take pity on him and assign him more assistants (doing so would be a death wish), he would never be opposed to help.

Yet he was given a task, and curse his own determined brain that he would stay up late into the next day to solve a mystery. While most of the staff had gone home, a couple remained with him, typing in numbers as they attempted to study the parasite.

As the day went on, more would join them in their task, and with their collective intelligence, the parasite would be ready to release.

Eventually, but not now. Now, the four chosen for the mission must report to their daily duties while waiting anxiously to be summoned.

Hisagi wasn't surprised when Captain Muguruma was nowhere to be found. The man was almost always out of the office at this time, and would probably be at the training grounds by now. Even after the incident with Aizen, he always was working on improving his power.

While Hisagi hesitated (training with Muguruma was like training with a drill sergeant who had no sense of humor), he turned that way today.

He would be going on a mission soon, and giving himself an edge could never be a bad thing.

To move the story along, the story of Hisagi's training with Muguruma will be mostly skipped. As expected, the Captain ran his Lieutenant down to the bone, challenging him at every turn. For, you see, Muguruma was very aware of Hisagi's fearfulness to fight all out, and he has always been determined to beat that fear out of him any way possible.

At the end, Hisagi was so wasted that, when knocked on the ground, he found himself laying there for a moment. He stared up at the sky, so blue after the lashing of light and shadow, and admired its ability to last forever.

But then a shadow was cast against his features as the captain stared down at him, face seemingly stuck in that perpetual frown. For a minute, Hisagi expected him to scold him for laying there. Instead, he merely sighed and offered a hand.

Hisagi took it, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet while Muguruma gave him a look he couldn't quite understand. "Good job." He said in an off-hand, gruff manor. "That's enough for today."

The lieutenant nodded, allowing himself to smile slightly. While his muscles were strained and breathing suddenly became a difficult, rasping task, he couldn't deny that the pure adrenaline of a fight was almost as grand of pain reliever as sake.

Muguruma led his lieutenant back, just as the sun was rising in the sky. He shot furtive glances at the man beside him, unsure of what to do. He knew, from the moment he took on Hisagi, what he was asking for. The man held such power in his hands, but his fear of giving into his zanpakuto's, and his own, bloodlust made him nearly timid on the battlefield, only drawing himself out when the situation was dire.

He was stuck between trying to beat some since into the lieutenant and attempting at talking to him. There was something fragile within Hisagi, especially when any thoughts of Rangiku came into the question.

In truth, Muguruma never really knew Rangiku well. In fact, she was one of those with a personality that rubbed him the extreme wrong way. Always goofing off, and constantly pushing others to guzzle alcohol as quickly as herself. Not to mention her desire to push off her responsibilities.

But he admired her as well. She had a loyalty that was as important to her as friendship. Not many fight so bravely when their loved ones are threatened.

And she was close with Hisagi, Muguruma knew. They complimented each other well, in the way opposites do. His intensity made her work harder, and her recklessness allowed him to throw some of his own caution to the wind.

Sighing, Muguruma gave up the idea of trying to say anything. He wasn't good at the inspirational speaking crap. He was a man of action, and, hopefully, his action would be able to help the lieutenant. Even if just a little bit.

* * *

><p>While some awoke early enough to see the sun rise, others were just opening their eyes as light streaked the horizon. The beckon of a warm day was enough to put many into good spirits. The storm had left the trees dripping rain, while the grass would remain wet until the sun raised high enough to call the water back to the sky.<p>

Kira woke much more slowly, suffering more in the mornings than Hisagi ever did after a night of drinking. Given, it was nothing like the hangovers he would have after a night with Rangiku, but the headache was noticeable enough to make him reluctant to go out in the sun.

He did, though, because responsibility was important to him. He went to his division, seeking out his captain, and finding him wrapped up in the manga.

"Ah, Izuru." Rose called amiably. He always referred to the blonde in such a casual way, just so he could insist on being called Rose. "Why don't you come back later? I'm right in the middle of the climax." He smiled in a genteel manner. Kira shrugged, knowing he had his own paperwork to file. With a quick bow, he left the room, off to his own daily tasks.

Along the way, he passed Toshiro Hitsugaya, who acknowledged him with a cold nod. He looked less tired, Kira noticed. Normally, soft bags hung underneath his cerulean eyes.

In fact, reader, Toshiro had slept, while not long, rather deeply. In his calm, the storm had cleared, and he was surprised at how pleasant he found the morning. As much as he loved the rage of winter, there was something about a rain-washed morning that was almost just as peaceful.

Having neglected his responsibilities previously for a rage in the woods, he found he had that much more to do. Using the night of sleep to his advantage, he did his best to ignore the usual stinging in his nose that was brought on by Rangiku's scent to sit at his desk.

Truthfully, the words weren't much more appealing today than they were the day before. Still, he was known for his punctuality, and some sort of inner force allowed him to get to work, if only for old time's sake.

* * *

><p>Habit can be a dangerous thing, reader. When one gets used to a routine for so long, a wrench thrown into it can certainly turn a whole day into tumult. It can be hard to remember, but to do something different each day is a necessity. Life spent in a repetitive niche could be suffocating.<p>

It was why she was woken so late in the day, compared to how early her life normally begun. In fact, the maids so expected her to be up already, that they didn't notice her absence until Captain Kuchiki calmly queried about his sister's whereabouts. Immediately, the youngest of the crew was sent off to fetch her.

Rukia opened a single violet eye as a timid knock came to her door. She was being called for breakfast – rather a rare event. Normally she was out in the garden at this time, sitting at the edge of a pond as she watched the blissful koi fish swim.

Strangely, though, she had slept rather well, when she finally had managed to fall to sleep. She glanced up at the closed window, and found the sight odd. Unable to help herself, she got up to open it, before answering the maid's call.

She opened the door, and the girl handed her the black robes, newly washed and mended. With a brief smile that strangely resembled a grimace, Rukia thanked her, then stepped back into her room.

Byakuya was back, and that meant she would be expected for a formal breakfast. She hadn't had one for awhile. Being a captain and also managing the Kuchiki household had kept him away for a long while. With a pang of guilt, she recognized that it was her fault he spent so much time trying to placate the elders.

Formal breakfast meant formal clothes. Although the weight the black robes lent to her made her shoulders sag, the pure elegance her other clothes forced upon her was even worse. Delicately, she selected a flowered kimono, and within moments, was stepping out of the hall and towards the breakfast lounge.

To her own relief, the only other person there was her brother. At times, relatives that weren't really hers, or other important ambassadors, were invited for meals. While it was rather rare, she usually hated it. They all looked to her with eyes a mixture of forced pity and ready disgust. Despite the many hardships she had faced, none could forget her grimy roots.

She wasn't ashamed of her past, she never had been. Even in the pain, she knew she earned at least some sort of place in Soul Society. For that reason, she couldn't help but to resent those condescending men, even just a little. It wasn't a horrible thing, though. Her own annoyance helped give her the same regal air as them, and while they knew her past was a blight on the house, they were always impressed at the way she could carry herself as cool as them.

As usual, she bowed to her brother, who eyed her placidly. He motioned for her to sit, and immediately plates of food were set steaming and delicious in front of them. First, though, she aimed for her tea. The warm drink was always soothing on her throat.

There was never really conversation between the siblings at breakfast, and today wasn't different. They ate in silence, chewing quietly and thoughtfully. So used to this lull of noise she was, that she quickly tuned into her own thoughts. She didn't notice it immediately, but her brother's presence put her at a sort of ease she hadn't felt in days.

Routine, however, was once again interrupted as Byakuya cleared his throat, intending to speak. He turned his cold gray eyes upon his adopted sister, and the flint in them that was there naturally softened. She flinched slightly, she couldn't help it. Whenever he spoke, he did so with such weight she always strained to hear his words, even if he spoke loudly.

So in response to his sound, she lifted her eyes to meet his. He was watching her closely, and she felt strangely vulnerable with his gray gaze on her. For forever, he had looked at her with those eyes, and she had never been able to see any deeper than the placid surface.

"The elders pulled strings to get you onto the mission you're going on." He began, voice slow and deep, as well thought out as always.

She blinked at that, unsure of what to say. Of course, the elders had told her she was selected personally for the mission, but she had no idea why. With her silence, she beckoned for her brother to continue.

He did, keeping his stern gaze on her. "It is their hope that you will manage to kill this hollow in order to clear some of the rumors circulating your circumstance."

Ah, she breathed. That made sense. Despite her attempt to try and seem as normal, she supposed that servants enjoyed talking, and she was something interesting to talk about, with her late night returns and sudden bouts of screaming.

Byakuya continued to hold her gaze, trying to make his point clear. She continued to sit, hands calm, despite the fact he could see a nervous curiosity pass over her gaze. "However, despite their hopes, you're to follow the orders given to you by the Captain Commander. This is a reconnaissance mission, and it's too dangerous to try and confront the hollow head on."

In front of him, he saw as she let out a little breath of confusion, and to his relief, he knew that she herself was prepared to let the hollow slide. Still, he knew emotions ran thick and deep in her, and in the heat of the moment, anything could happen.

He continued to pierce her with that penetrating gaze, making his decision perfectly clear. "There is still much we don't know about the hollow, and any attacks could result in anything."

She winced at that, unable to help the sudden flashback of Rangiku squirming and screaming in her bed as nurses and doctors attempted to hold her down. She swallowed thickly, knowing that one clash with those hollow's claws could result in her wasting away in that bed as well.

She was struck with a sudden notion that she wasn't sure if she wanted to die yet. Not in that painful, degrading way.

Her brother continued to watch her, hoping that his own message would make it through. At the meeting with the elders, he had seen the way her back had straightened and her eyes had brightened, in a way they hadn't for a long while.

And he had recognized that look, the look of anticipating revenge. He saw it now as she sat across from him, although her determination was cowed by her own loyalty to orders. She had no obligation to follow the elder's ideals, and his own pride stirred as she bowed her head to him.

"Don't worry." She assured him as coolly as she could. "We will not engage the hollow, not until we're ordered to do so."

He nodded, flicking his hand to summon servants to collect their plates. "Then we are done." He told her, although he paused for a moment to bow his own head. Rukia blinked at him, realizing that he was giving her his blessing.

For the first time in months, she felt something warm spread inside of her heart. The sensation was so unexpected and strange in her normally cold indifference, she had to look at her hands to blink back the tears before he could see them.

* * *

><p>After breakfast, she hastened to pull on her robes and dash back out to squad 13. Despite her promotion, paperwork made it so her position wouldn't be valid for another month, so she reported as always, to the fifth seat.<p>

He seemed surprised to see her, and she blushingly avoided his questioning gaze. Breakfast with her brother had lingered longer than normal, but cold pride refused to tell him such a petty excuse.

Sighing, he told her that those not on patrol had left to go on a special training mission with promising recruits. Almost coldly, he waved her off to go and see Ukitake. She bowed rather stiffly. She had never been a fan of the fifth seat, and he looked at her with an unrestrained jealousy. While most would argue that her part in the winter war was enough to secure her seat, he glared as a previously unseated officer managed to surpass him.

Ignoring his frigidity, she strode off to Captain Ukitake's office. Yet, she only made it halfway there, when she practically ran into a striding Kiyone.

"Ah, Rukia!" She gasped, dropping papers that she had clutched to her chest. "Jeez, you surprised me!" The girl laughed in her loud, unrestrained way. Rukia tried not to flinch at the sound as she leaned down to help pick up the scattered papers.

Kiyone bent down beside her, smiling brightly. "Actually, it's just perfect I ran into you. You're not busy now, are you?"

Rukia shook her head, explaining that she had been on her way to speak to Ukitake. Kiyone beamed at her, a smile so bright she nearly had to squint. "Perfect! See, the typical carrier is out sick, and Sentaro dumped this load of work on me. I need to get back to the Captain, so could you help me with these?"

Raven haired Rukia blinked at that. She normally wasn't a messenger, but Kiyone looked at her with those pleading eyes, and she simply sighed obligingly. Kiyone squealed happily, handing a few different papers to Rukia.

"See, these two go to Squad 7, but you could probably just deliver them to Lieutenant Iba. This one is a message for Captain Kyoraku, and this one is a report for Captain Hitsugaya. I can do the rest!" Kiyone said brightly.

Forlornly, Rukia glanced at Kiyone's arms, seeing she only had one paper to deliver. But, with a start, she saw it went to Captain Kurotsuchi. Suddenly grateful that the girl was willing to take on that beast on her own, she smiled. "Okay. I'll see you later." Rukia said, as Kiyone nodded enthusiastically.

They parted ways then, and Rukia decided to visit Kyoraku first. Despite his often laid back attitude, she found his relaxed nature just as comforting as Ukitake's.

Predictably, he invited her for a drink, but Lieutenant Nanao got in his way. "You lazy man!" She accused him meanly, watching as he squirmed beneath her strict gaze. She turned back to Rukia, smiling slightly. "Thanks, Kuchiki. Oh wait, it's Lieutenant Kuchiki now, isn't it?"

She smiled in a congratulatory way, while from behind her, Kyoraku called, "see? That's a reason to celebrate!"

Nanao rolled her eyes, taking the message from Rukia. "Thanks." She sighed. "It probably isn't what you had in mind as a promotion, but I doubt Ukitake will have you carrying messages for long."

She nodded reassuringly, and Rukia smiled softly. With a quick bow, she thanked them both, and set off again.

Closest from there was Squad 7, although both captain and lieutenant were gone, so she dropped them off with the third seat. Afterward, she ventured towards Squad 10.

She had expected for him to be gone, but the man at the front waved her inside. "He's just in there doing paperwork. You can give it to him quick." He sighed, and she had a feeling that he himself didn't want to have to give the papers to the captain.

_So it is true_. She thought to herself in amusement. The captain did tend to instill a rugged fear in each of his subordinates.

Yet, it wasn't for the same reason that people would fear Kenpachi. Because despite their reluctance at getting chewed out for disturbing him, he inspired a committal loyalty just as well.

She knocked politely on his door, and she heard him call for her to enter. After a moment of hesitation, she did.

To her own surprise, the office looked no different from when she had last been here, many months ago. It was bland, without any touches to make it look very homey, except for the pictures and knick-knacks Rangiku had convinced her captain to let her keep.

Despite that, the couches and the floor and his desk were all the same. Even the captain looked as he normally did, bent over his desk in a look of concentration.

He glanced up at her, then blinked, surprised that the newly promoted lieutenant was standing in his office. At first, he thought it had something to do with the mission, but then she held out a hand with papers in it.

"These are from Captain Ukitake." She explained to him quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed at his confused look. For a moment, she felt tempted to explain to him why she was doing errands, but he then smoothed his face and took the papers from her hand.

Soundlessly, he perused them, then looked back up at her from the cover of his eyelashes. "These just require a few signatures and a short report from me. Would you stay, so you can just take it back?"

She hesitated, but nodded. Despite a sentence that should have been a calm request, his came off as an irritated order. Suddenly, she remembered the look on the man's face at the front, and had to stifle a smile. Such a strange environment, especially compared to Squad 13.

Then, with a pang, she recalled that the one who was always responsible for lightening the atmosphere was Rangiku.

He motioned for her to sit as she waited, and she nodded accordingly. She tried to stay as normal as she could, but his teal gaze didn't miss her sudden stiffness.

She sat neatly on the sofa, and for some reason, he wanted to snap at her that she was doing it wrong. The image in his mind was of Rangiku lying sprawled on that couch. Realizing that was ridiculous, though, he swallowed the words and filled out the paper for Ukitake.

He hadn't seen the man in a while, he realized. And he knew something was wrong with the old carrier, because normally the man insisted on sending bundles of sweets with his letters. The gesture in the past had always irritated the captain, but now he missed it.

The scratch of the pen and the surrounding silence lulled Rukia into a deep train of thought. So in depth was she, that Toshiro had to call her name twice to get her attention.

"Hm?" She blinked dazedly as he stared pointedly at her. As if suddenly remembering where she was, she jumped to her feet, the movement making her stumble awkwardly.

If he were anyone else, he would have snickered at the look that crossed her face. Instead, he continued to simply watch her as she quickly gained her composure, straightening in that way he recognized her brother often wore.

The same cool look was on her face as she took the paper from him with a bow. He watched her carefully, finding that this regal Rukia was a little too strange from him. In a flash, he remembered the way she lit up as Ichigo picked on her, or Orihime called to her. Feeling cold, he dismissed her quickly.

Do you recall, reader, when this story brought up how two people, so similar, can also be opposites?

If you considered the closest to Toshiro's opposite, your mind would most likely jump to the busty Rangiku. Discounting looks and height difference alone, both a sharp contrast with each other, they differed just as much as anyone could get.

Where Rangiku was lazy, Toshiro was determined. Where she would easily abandon her duties for a trip to the spa or a day with friends, the only time he actually took the chance to take care of his own body was after being sliced up in a battle.

Yet, there are another two that contrast to vibrantly, despite their similarities. These two are Rukia and Toshiro, two that should understand each other perfectly.

And yet, they don't. Ice and snow actually clash quite a lot, reader. Ice envies snow's beauty, while snow wishes that it wouldn't melt so easily. So similar they are, and at one point, ice has been snow, while many times snow will turn into ice.

But in their individual forms, they can never forget their differences.

Which was why, reader, when she left his room, Toshiro found a new kind of cold lingered. He always enjoyed a blizzard, but his element was ice, and he found her presence strangely soft in its coolness. He watched her leave, wondering what the difference was between her today and the woman he had spoken softly with at Orihime's grave. Then, shaking his head softly, he returned to his own work.

They had a mission coming up, and maybe he would be able to find that difference, if he looked hard enough.

* * *

><p>This chapter is almost over, reader, because the day continued as a very normal one. Shifts and duties were knocked around, and in the depths of the forest, a mission left a few men with scratches to bear. Yet, nothing heavy to scar.<p>

As the sun began to set, in the labs of Squad 12, Akon breathed out a sigh of relief as one of the assistants confirmed that the tracker was firmly attached to the parasite, and they had gathered all the data on it that they could. Feeling worn down and ragged from the few constant days of work, he congratulated them all on good work.

"Tomorrow." He told a girl as she locked the lab up for the night. "We'll go to Captain Commander first thing."

* * *

><p>Well, there's chapter four!<p>

I apologize for any OOCness, I honestly haven't read or watched the anime or manga in a long time, and I'm going off what I remember of each character.

Slow, but maybe a little less angsty. Don't worry, there will be more HitsuRuki moments and action scenes coming soon! Don't want to bore people too bad, eh?

I expect my next update to be by the end of August. Sorry about the lateness, but I am moving in a couple of weeks, and shit's about to get cray, but you can check my profile for updates.

And, I guess, if anyone is still caring to read this story, then thank you very much! Drop a review, if you're feeling kindly :)


	5. The Gray is All Knowing

Ha! Two updates within a month's time? Take that writer's block! You can go to Hell!

But seriously, I'm glad to finally be rocking and rolling on this. You know, I wasn't that stoked when I first wrote this chapter. It was long and kind of difficult, but when I went back through it (which is shocking, since I never do that), I found that I enjoyed how it turned out a lot.

Or maybe I'm just overly-confident. Who knows?

Anyways, that's not important. What's important is that there are some seriously feels in the future, so it's worth reading. You know, if you're patient enough to go through the character development first.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>Since the quarrel <em>

_Will bear no color for the thing he is,_

_Fashion it thus: that what he is, augmented,_

_Would run to these and these extremities._

_- Shakespeare, Julius Ceaser_

* * *

><p>Every single color is color blind.<p>

Red cannot see blue, just as green cannot see brown. They are as insensitive to each other as they are to their own nature. Unlike light, which is blinding, and shadow, which is knowing, the colors simply exist. There is no thought in what they are, because they are different to every person.

A blissful existence would be an ignorant one. Why do you think colors are so vivid? It is because, long ago, they picked what parts of the world they wished to reside in. Blue dominated the skies, and therefore it had claim over the seas. Green called for the grass, while all the other colors settled for the mass amounts of flowers that grew.

There is one color, though, that knows what it is. This is the color gray, and it is the color that settles over when the others are nowhere to be found.

When light is absent and only shadow remains, gray will accompany its creator. Because shadow is impossible to avoid, gray is the most well-known color of them all.

Yet it is never recognized as a color. It is known simply as a border; the transition between light and shadow.

When twilight occurs, the world is washed in gray. With the light of sun disappeared, and the shadows not yet strong enough to create black, gray is everywhere. It is depressing, and harder to see through than shadow, because light cannot penetrate it.

At this twilight, six people stood on the crest of a hill, one that faced the edges of the Soul Society. Through the gray, Akon stood, addressing the four to be sent of this mission with utmost care.

In his hands, he held what could be counted as the sixth 'person'. A parasite, squiggly, small, and completely disgusting looking. It leaked pulses of searching spirit energy, designed to 'see' in a way that is reminiscent of echo-location bats use.

Hisagi stared at the parasite with a murderous loathing, while the rest seemed to cast it an almost fearful glare. Despite its small size and pitiful lack of power, it had the ability to creep into people's bodies and destroy them, from the inside out.

Akon continued to speak, although he sensed that only Kira and Toshiro cared to listen to his words. Hisagi's focus was wrapped in his hatred, while Rukia reserved a strangely blank look that made her violet eyes dull.

"You cannot follow it too closely, because it can sense better than it can see." He explained to them. "If you focus, you can feel the small waves of reiatsu it sends out. Being too close will cause it to realize who you are, and you might risk it attempting to get into one of you four.

"Because of this, we've put a tracker in it. Each of your phones have been enabled to track it, so even if you're separated, you'll be able to know where it is."

He looked closely at them, trying to see if they were heeding his words at all. Captain Hitsugaya nodded slightly, cerulean eyes narrowed in focus. The parasite squirmed slightly, as if anxious, and Hisagi's face twisted into a cruel sneer.

Kira, however, seemed to most alarmed by Akon's words. "So if it senses us, there's a chance it'll try to kill us as well? Can it do that without having to return to the hollow, first?"

Glad someone was attending, Akon turned to face him. Shy and timid, the way Kira's hair was allowed to fall over his eyes implied a fearful nature. The one eye that could be seen, a clear, brilliant blue, stared with all the inward intelligence of a naturally introverted character.

Not one to sugar coat his words, Akon nodded. "Honestly, there's no telling what it can do. Perhaps it can attack multiple people before having to return, but most likely the hollow wants it back. Either way, this is more of a stealth mission, than anything."

Returning to aid the rest of the group, he said, "The Captain Commander ordered me to remind you that this is a reconnaissance mission. Trying to be a hero or take revenge could end up putting yourself and others in danger, and will be treated as a direct violation of orders. You are to report in frequently with updates of your mission. Understood?"

For a minute, he looked slightly ridiculous. He wasn't even a lieutenant, but he felt the need to catch each one's eyes to know they were comprehending. While Kira's gaze was clear and knowing, Hisagi's was clouded with restrained fury and Rukia's was still rather blank. Toshiro's, although attending, was unreadable.

After a brief hesitation, they all nodded. Even Hisagi, with clenched teeth and fists, replied that he understood. Good. He might be motivated by hatred, but his own ingrained loyalty would weigh on him to obey.

Relieved, Akon prepared to release the hollow. "Give it a few moments head start, and then your mission will begin."

His words struck a chord with everyone. Suddenly, the chance to kill the hollow was no longer an idea, a distant possibility. It hung in the air as a reality, with the taste of chance weighing deliciously tantalizing on their tongues. Each of them stood a little righter, looking tense. Even Rukia managed to snap out of her blankness to watch with an intensity she hadn't been able to give in a long time.

Akon peered at them closely, then turned away. Quickly, smoothly, as to avoid mistakes, he turned away and cast a quick binding spell on the parasite. It squirmed furiously. The kido kept it from being able to send out waves of reiatsu, and it wasn't taking the sudden blindness well.

His kido wasn't especially strong, so he set the parasite down, and set back. Alarmed, and no longer able to find its way, the parasite did exactly what he had hoped it would do.

It opened a portal. The ripping sound echoed as it instinctively tore open the skin of the air separating it from Hueco Mundo. Beside Toshiro, Rukia jumped at the sound. She wasn't one to normally be fearful, and he cast her a surprised sideways glance. She stood normal as ever, but her eyes were drenched in anxiety.

With the portal opened, the parasite slipped through, writhing furiously. It was a good thing Akon installed the tracker, because as it moved, light slipped through its body and made it look less than a shimmering ribbon.

It disappeared into the darkness, and they stared after it. With another quick spell, Akon stuck the portal open. For minutes they waited, each second that passed was painful and slow. Yet they did not dare venture forth without Akon's approval.

Finally, nearly ten minutes later, the man nodded at all of them. "It's time. Good luck to you all."

He stepped back, and the group took off in unison. With Kira passing through first, the rest followed, leaving Toshiro back in the rear. He shot Akon a grateful look, then disappeared through the portal and into the darkness.

* * *

><p>It was like passing through thick, dark shadowy ice. Suddenly she was cold, much colder than she had ever been. She had never followed a hollow into Hueco Mundo before, and she never had known the difference in the portals. The darkness seemed to suck the air from her lungs.<p>

Then the darkness disappeared, and was replaced by bleak gloom. Oxygen slammed back into her lungs, and she breathed gratefully.

She wished she could say it was less disconcerting from coming here before, but it wasn't. She landed beside Kira, who stared about him in surprise. Right, she thought. This is the first time any of them had entered the unique surroundings of the hollow's forest.

Forest was a generous word for the strange landscape. The trees grew upwards for miles, and the sky disappeared, replaced by a deep black. Light seemed to only exist there because it didn't wish shadow to be lonely.

For a moment, she stood there to reminisce. Then she turned, glancing at the rest of the team.

Toshiro met her gaze for a moment, and she almost started at the glint in them. Rukia was used to seeing cold eyes, ones as impenetrable as a glacier. For a second, though, she saw something dead.

It was wiped away quickly, and he drew her attention by reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. Suddenly remembering she had one as well, she touched her own pocket, where it was.

"Well?" Hisagi growled, his voice impatient. He was deliberately avoiding looking in Rukia's general direction, which she found worse than his burning stare. "Where is it?"

His glare was somewhat placated when the captain shot him a wary look. Even though the lieutenant wasn't under his command, Captain Hitsugaya was used to being spoken to with respect by most subordinates. Beside him, Rukia tried not to flinch. She recognized that look, often sent to Ichigo when he refused to call Toshiro by his formal title.

With a swallow, she forced that thought away. As often as she tended to sit within wallowing memories, this wasn't the time to be distracted. No matter what Hisagi thought of her.

A dull beeping sounded on Toshiro's phone as he pulled it from his pocket. Blithely, he flipped it open, relieved to discover that the tracker had already been activated.

The dot was moving, and it was moving quickly. His eyes widened. Despite the distance they were supposed to keep, it would do no good if the parasite long disappeared before they could catch up to it.

"This way." He said quickly, his tone taking on the barking command he always used when in tense situations. The others, although highly ranked, knew that tone, and readied themselves. It was clear Toshiro was in the lead. He hesitated, just for a moment, to say, "make sure to suppress your spiritual pressure."

It was something they all should know to do, but they double checked anyways. The last thing they needed was a thousand hollows bearing down on them.

They slipped through the wood, unnoticed for the most part, and unseen by many. It was something to be said for the dankness of their clothes. The blackness melded into the shadows that were around them, even if the trunks of the trees were a strange, dead gray.

* * *

><p>In the land of Soul Society, strange events were brewing.<p>

The morning sun rose as slow as it did every morning. While the world had lightened, the bright orb had yet to actually peek out from the shadows of the horizon that hid it. The result was an illuminating glow that cast long shadows across roads and houses. While many still slumbered, there was one sector that never rested.

It was the fourth squad, spearheaded by the relentless captain. Some of her subordinates murmured that she never actually slept. Her healing powers made her immune of such a need.

Of course, Isane would always condemn those rumors before they had a chance to swell. If there was one thing the soft-spoken lieutenant was firm about, it was the respect she knew her captain deserved.

That didn't mean she didn't believe them. She paced Unohana down the hallway, wondering how many nights in the past month had been spent sleepless. After a few minutes, she shoved the thought away. The idea that she hadn't had an actual full rest in at least a week made her more weary and depressed than before.

"Hurry, Isane." Unohana called her lieutenant to attention. The tall girl immediately snapped out of her thoughts, her back straightening under the elder's harried voice. "I know it's early, but there isn't time to daydream."

Isane nodded, hurrying along with the captain. They swerved down hallways, avoiding other busy squad members, until they reached the long term wing.

The door they stopped at was the same normal wood as the others. The difference was the sheer amount of people lurking there. Healers of all stations and ranks milled about. Some looked as if they were floundering – unsure of what to do. Others rapped in and out of the door, as busy and unseeing of the normal world like a horse blinded to focus on its race.

But Unohana's presence was one that not even the stupidest of men could ignore. Powerful, if gentle in its pride. They stood to attention as Isane would, backs straight and eyes bright. The third seat greeted them first. Iemura, normally vain in the way he stands and speaks, looked disheveled and mussed underneath the fluorescent light.

One look from Unohana sent him scurrying into the room, and they followed. "She woke up earlier." He said. "She did it so gradually, nobody even noticed until someone came to check on her, and found her room empty. We eventually found her again about to leave out of the back."

The captain nodded slowly, venturing to the bed to look closely at the woman lying in it. She was fast asleep – sedated by the hands of the workers in the hospital. Her face was peaceful. With some surprise, Unohana noted that she looked much more relaxed than she had before.

Gently, she placed a hand on the girl's cheek. Isane peered over her shoulder, eyes pensive and round as she surveyed. "And she can't remember anything?" She asked Iemura.

The blonde nodded, looking strangely solemn. "She kept asking for Captain Hitsugaya. She said she knew who did it – who killed Aizen."

Momo Hinamori – once a sweet vivacious girl with a strength to surprise her enemies – lay there. Unohana withdrew her hand, and turned to Iemura.

"Keep her asleep." She said, dark eyes sorrowful. "When Captain Hitsugaya returns, we'll wake her. Hopefully, seeing a close friend will jerk her back to the present."

Her words hung heavy and somber in the air. It was a fool's chance, and they all knew it.

* * *

><p>To walk far wasn't something Rukia couldn't do. In fact, she usually reveled in long walks. The rhythmic movement and deep silence that was normally her company was the closest she neared to sanity.<p>

She didn't mean to stray so close to Hitsugaya, but she couldn't stand the way Hisagi's eyes narrowed at her whenever she neared him. At one point, when she was dwelling a respectful distance behind the leading captain, she practically bumped into him. Her wandering thoughts had translated into wandering feet, and it was only a nearby hollow's cry that jerked her back to reality in time to avoid collision.

The resulting glare had sent near shivers down her spine. Still, she didn't apologize. She hadn't actually hit him. Then, despite herself, she had managed enough damning courage to glare back.

His look had been like murder.

With a quick breath in, she turned away from him to quicken her pace, inwardly cursing herself. It was stupid to be distracted out here. Before, she had felt her body react with pure excitement at a chance to take on this killer. Now, for some reason, she felt anxious.

Yet, unable to help herself, her thoughts kept turning to the time she had been left in this forest on her own. It had been when she and Renji came to Hueco Mundo to aid Ichigo in saving Orihime. Inwardly, she winced.

They had been thrown into the forest by the vicious sand hollow which guarded Aizen's lair. She had been flung away, and would have been toast, if not for that strange maroon haired man called Ashido.

He had saved her, and although their time was brief, their friendship was just as real. She had vowed to come back for him then.

She hadn't been able to for a long while. After defeating Aizen, her thoughts were consumed with Ichigo. His spiritual pressure was fading. At the time, she really believed they would never meet again. She tried not to remember how she then believed they could spend forever together, when he defied everything and everyone to get his powers back.

During his absence, though, she kept good on her promise. With permission from the Captain Commander, she returned to the forest. Back then, making sure all of her friends found their own way home was her chief concern.

For nearly three days, she searched for Ashido. She returned to his home, but it was neglected and abandoned. He hadn't been there in ages. With a sinking feeling, she realized that, most likely, he had no longer been able to hold out against the constant barrage of hollows.

Desperately, she searched for hours through that forest. Yet no matter how far she went, she could pick up no lingering traces of his reiatsu. Finally, her brother had returned for her, and she was forced to face the truth. He did what so many other men did. He succumbed to the pure exhaustion fighting inevitably bestows on those pledging to fight.

For a moment, she wondered if perhaps they might find the same graveyard he had once shown her. Her gut twisted when she thought that maybe the hollows were bored enough to destroy that, too. Even if the reaper's souls were no longer lurking there, it was the last physical evidence to tie their existence to this world.

Her thoughtful silence didn't go completely unnoticed. Toshiro's teal gaze flickered back to her, seeming to notice the blankness of her features. If he hadn't seen that look so often on Captain Kuchiki's face, he would have believed her to be dumb.

"Kuchiki." He called, and she blinked slowly, as if trying to rid herself of the sight of another world. "You've been here before, right?"

His brusque tone didn't leave much room for hesitation. Suddenly intimidated by his demeanor, she nodded, trying to summon the same respectful expression she wore habitually in front of Ukitake.

"Pay attention." He growled. She tried to keep the redness from her cheeks, especially as she felt Hisagi's gloating gaze on her back. It was like being back in the Academy, where the others leapt at the chance of seeing her humiliated. "Would you recognize any of these landmarks?"

The world of Hueco Mundo, reader, is much different than ours. It is a world that is so dark, so pitched in shadow, that light _must_ live there.

Because if light didn't, that world wouldn't be able to exist.

However, that means that this world isn't light because it has light. It is so because that is an inherent fact. Therefore, the whole landscape is as dank as it is bleak. The only light seemed to come from the trunks of the strangely gray trees.

The point to be made here is that, because there is no real light, that there has never been a need for different landmarks. The hollows don't need light to know where they are. Therefore, Hueco Mundo looks the same no matter how far and wide you would go. The trees have the same tall grayness, and each new cave looks the same as the last.

The only landmark to be seen, so far, was one that another Soul Reaper carved into the soil.

But up ahead, Rukia spotted a tree sliced in half, accompanied by a large gouge in the ground. With surprise, she ventured forward, taking a sudden lead from the captain. With perked interest, he followed her.

She bent to touch the scar, jagged and ugly even in this place. Her fingers skimmed the rough edge of the rock, and she blinked in surprise. Even thought it has been ages, she could still feel the remnants of Ichigo's spiritual pressure.

The realization slammed into her stomach like a truck. It clutched her heart like a fist, and she almost wailed from the pain. With force, she bit sharply down on her lip, trying to ignore the sudden force of memories threatening to tear down her mock wall. She focused on the taste of blood that flooded her tongue and swam down her threat. That was a tie to reality she couldn't ignore.

"There was a huge battle here." Came Kira's voice, snapping her to a degree of awareness akin to what she felt just before going into battle. It was full of awe, and closer than she expected. Schooling her face to the placid coldness she was accustomed to, she turned to see the others clustered around her.

Kira told the truth. The carnage extended far beyond from where she crouched. As far as they could see, trees had been ripped and boulders had been upended. The ground was jagged and scarred from the heavy blows of swords. Rukia realized that this hadn't been a battle she was a part of.

A shadow fell over her, and she glanced up to see Toshiro standing there. His eyebrows were furrowed deep as he stared at her. "You okay, Kuchiki?" He asked.

For a brief moment, she was transported back to that day at the hospital. He had asked her the same question, happening upon her just moments after she puked up her breakfast onto the lawn. He was distracted then. She could have sprouted another arm, and he probably would have left her alone.

Now, though, his gaze was on her, and she found it piercing as well as trapping. For a moment, she recalled that she had seen Rangiku that day. A pang in her gut told her that he was just as understanding of her pain. He was living it, too.

But then she heard Hisagi rustle, and cold sense rushed through her blood. Her jaw snapped shut, and she nodded curtly. "I'm fine." She said, trying to sound as placid as she could. Her voice nearly cracked over the words, and she tried not to wince, hoping that he wouldn't notice.

His eyes were disconcerting, and she swallowed thickly. He probably could see right through her, but he chose not to comment. Instead he turned to Hisagi and Kira, that latter of which was now standing by a damaged tree, looking stricken.

It didn't take too longer to figure out why. As Rukia and Toshiro neared him, the feel of Renji's spiritual energy wafted over her, much thicker than Ichigo's. It must have been where he unleashed his shikai.

She might have fallen over then and there, but Hisagi broke the silence by turning away. "This is no time for nostalgia trips." He all but snarled. Something in his hand beeped, and they realized he had pulled out his own phone. "The parasite is getting away."

For a moment, Rukia all but tackled him. _Renji was your friend, too!_ She wanted to scream. Did that mean nothing to him?

To her own surprise, it wasn't Hisagi's cold gaze that stopped her from screaming, no matter how frigid it was. Instead, it was Kira's wounded stare.

The blonde turned to watch Hisagi, something like offended sadness in his gaze. That startled Rukia back into silence. She was used to Kira being the one to stand by Hisagi no matter what. His blatant shock made her heart sink.

Toshiro was the only one to react to Hisagi's snap. "There's nothing wrong with remembering someone." He spoke in a voice so icy, it made Hisagi's sound welcoming. In that moment, Rukia realized why Hisagi never turned his blame on Captain Hitsugaya. The man may be short, but his wrath was by far more intimidating than the lieutenant's.

Despite his meanness, Toshiro snapped to as well. "But you have a point. Come on. At least we'll recognize this place if one of us gets lost."

The ease in his tone made Rukia uncomfortable. As if he were expecting one of them to disappear.

His casual demeanor didn't slip by the other men. Hisagi, feeling chastised, glanced away furiously, while Kira settled for surprised gawping.

With Toshiro once again leading, the lieutenants turned to follow him. Through these woods they continued to march, and Rukia fell in step just behind the white-haired man. Her eyes studied him curiously, although she kept glancing away. For some reason, even though her eyes were on his back, it was as if he were meeting her gaze with his own.

"Is there something you need to ask, Kuchiki?" He asked suddenly, nearly startling her into jumping. His tone was completely casual, although she detected the same iciness he had when addressing Hisagi. That alone made her lower her eyes, saying, "No, sir."

"…" His silence was thick, and not an invitation to speak again.

So she turned her gaze away, catching the last glimpses of the damage done by a battle long ago. From the edge of the trees, she could have sworn she saw something bright red flash. But when she blinked, it was gone.

She could have loved Renji. Scratch that, actually. She _would_ have loved him, if Ichigo never came into the picture.

They both had known it, as well. How painful it must have been for him, she thought. To be friends with the man who had stolen her away. It was another reason for her to keep him so close. He was one of the strongest men she had ever known.

If she never knew Ichigo, they would have been friends again. She knew it. That was why he chose to become part of Byakuya's squad. They had forever in Soul Society. They would have become closer, it was only a matter of time.

But then someone else had jumped into her life, full of orange hair and a loud voice and an irrational habit of nosing his way into business that was meant to be left alone. His presence was powerful, and she would never be able to ignore it. The sheer volume of his energy was entrancing, and the delicious strangeness it offered her was too tantalizing to turn down.

Not that she realized it at the time. When Renji came to her execution, claiming to be there to assist her, her heart had soared, almost more than when she spotted Ichigo standing there amongst the flames. Her childhood friend was back. Everything she had longed for and missed was suddenly there again.

In the ensuing days, they had only worked on regaining their friendship, if not making it stronger than before. She loved him so dearly, the red spiky hair and the warm brown gaze that would soften just for her. Her heart jumped every time he called her name with that boyish tone, excited just to see her.

But Ichigo wasn't gone, and despite their friendship, she was taken with him. Even for Renji, she couldn't deny their closeness. She couldn't help it. No one had understood her so well ever since Kaien, and the love she felt for him paled to this new feeling.

Her heart hurt. It ached and screamed with the emotion she had forced herself to suppress for so long. It was only by worrying her lip between her teeth and with steady practice that she could keep herself from crying.

With a huff, she thought that she was doomed to fall apart in front of all these men she hardly knew.

Something sounded beside her, and she stiffened immediately. Her stop was so sudden, Kira practically crashed into her. "Rukia?" He blinked. "What are you-"

Honestly, it was only pure reaction that saved them both. With a gasp, Rukia launched herself backward, knocking Kira over in the process. Knowing that they would land painfully, if not awkwardly, she over corrected herself and somersaulted back into the earth to avoid a cero blast beaming hot over their heads.

Hisagi howled loudly, and the sound of Toshiro drawing his sword was painful. Rukia scrambled to her feet as quickly as she could, and underneath the smoke of the blast, she saw Kira rising as well.

_How did we not see them_? She demanded inwardly, pulling Sode no Shirayuki roughly from her sheath. What she hadn't seen before was a sudden pack of Menos Grande, their howls piercing as they loomed from the shadows. Their ugly white faces gaped while they gathered red energy into their mouths.

They were preparing to fire again.

"Kuchiki, move!" Came Toshiro's solid voice, launching himself forward to shove her out of the way of another cero blast. His momentum was enough to send her sprawling, but at the last moment, his hand reached out to grab her shoulder. The motion allowed her to stretch her feet out beneath her, and although she landed awkwardly, she landed ready to move again.

Just as well, because the blasts came surely and steadily now. She flash stepped between each red beam, bringing her zanpakuto up roughly to sever one of the Menos Grande vertically.

It wasn't enough. Two seemed to replace where it stood. Another hollow launched itself from between the beasts. Its claws reached out to grasp her arm, and she hissed as it tore thin shreds of flesh. With a quick breath, she muttered an incantation and stuck her hand in its face, feeling satisfied as the strong bolt vaporized it.

Using the momentum from the blast, she pushed herself off the branch of a tree and flash stepped a distance away from the commotion. Some turned to follow her, but she only needed the moment.

"Dance, Sode no Shirayuki." She breathed, turning the beautiful white blade before her. A rush of cold air slammed into her face, accompanied by the familiar power that always pulsed into her blood. For a moment, she almost felt prideful. It was hard to wield such a beautiful item and not. "Tsugi no mai, Hakuren!"

A sleeve of ice launched itself from her blade. The Menos Grande which had turned towards her bellowed furiously as they were encased in ice. A quick slice from her blade caused them to shatter.

Around her, the other had released their shikai as well. Toshiro's Hyorinmaru roared furiously as he lashed out at the surrounding hollows. Kira's hooked blade caused the mountainous creatures to crumble to the ground, while Hisagi's dark gaze and bloody clothes truly did make him look like a reaper.

If she had been faced with this many enemies all that time ago, she would have been killed easily. As it was, with her new power, and her comrades, they diminished the forces around themselves quickly.

She landed beside them, ready to regroup, but Toshiro shook his head. "The parasite is getting away." He hissed. "Are you hurt?" Although he could see the blood on her uniform, the sense of urgency in his eyes was enough to make her ignore the pain.

Mutely, she shook her head, although she glanced at Hisagi. The amount of blood on his sleeves meant that he had to have suffered some sort of injury. But when he met her eyes, his gaze hardened and she felt a familiar chill settle on her skin. Her concern for him disappeared quickly.

Besides, her arm was bleeding as well. They would be fine.

A slight nod from her, and Toshiro took off. She flash stepped after him, her breath ragged and panting as her muscles remembered what it meant to be truly tired.

She operated very often on very little to no sleep. Now she realized why she slept so soundly when her days were spent battling. It was taxing on the body, as well as the mind. Her vision swam, and she had to focus in order not to falter.

The scream and call of hollows in the background was a cacophony of sound. They were following as close as they could, but the weak couldn't keep up with their speed. She was only able to follow Toshiro by spotting his white hair flashing amongst the trees.

For what seemed like hours, they continued to run. Their pace didn't slow for a moment, and after a little while, Hisagi began to lag. He had lost more blood than the others had.

The initial cero blast had been aimed mostly at Rukia and Kira, which they had avoided. Hisagi had caught the edges of it, and the force had sent him flying backward. When his momentum was stopped by a nearby tree, a waiting hollow used the opportunity to attack him. It was only thanks to so many years of training that Hisagi's body acted on instinct. As the hollow swiped its claws, he rolled out of the way. But that hadn't stopped the tips from finding his shoulder.

He was breathing harder and harder, knowing that the blood would have stopped long ago if he had found time to wrap it. There was no time, though, and just as he thought he might stumble, Toshiro came to a halt.

Hisagi wasn't the only one out of breath. Kira leaned against a nearby trunk, panting heavily. Rukia swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping away sweat. Even Toshiro's chest heaved with breaths as he checked his phone, dark turquoise eyes focused.

They snapped up to the rest of the group, taking surveillance of the team. In his gaze, they could spot the constant eternal dilemma of a leader. Would he stay and allow them to recover and risk losing the parasite? Or would he lead them onward, not even to hesitate if one of them fell?

For a moment, he hesitated, and the lieutenants waited patiently for him to decide. This mission was meant to include all of them, but a captain's word was law.

"Let's rest." He said finally, blinking with amusement as the lieutenants seemed to deflate. "It's nearby, and we should have at least a few moments to heal."

Only Rukia and Hisagi showed any physical injuries beyond bruising. Rukia was better at kido, but one glance at Hisagi confirmed that he had no desire to be healed by her. She ambled to a tree she could lean against, and set the glow over her injuries. The cold lacerations were flooded with warmth.

Kira went to Hisagi instead, murmuring a few words before summoning his own power to channel his healing. None of them were fourth squad, so the wounds would be healed to scabs, at best. Still, it was better than losing blood.

All the while, Captain Hitsugaya stood at attention, cerulean eyes surveying the landscape. They had been caught unawares earlier. He knew better than to allow the same mistake to be made twice.

Rukia healed faster than Hisagi, and she tottered back to her feet, shaking her head to clear her swimming vision. Her breaths calmed, and she felt ready to continue. She glanced back at her to see how Kira and Hisagi were faring.

Not to her surprise, Hisagi was glaring coldly. "What?" He snapped as soon as she turned her head. Her initial reaction was to flinch, but she forced herself to stay placid. She merely shook her head, and turned away.

But blood loss and wounded dignity made Hisagi irritable. He pushed away from Kira, raising his voice. "Why didn't you warn all of us, huh? Instead you just knock over Izuru and expect us to fend for ourselves?"

His voice was thick with accusation, and this time, Rukia couldn't help but to cringe. It was worse that she was so much shorter than Hisagi. He loomed over her, all pent up fury and misplaced hatred.

Kira came up behind him, looking both alarmed and soothing. "Hey, if she hadn't knocked me over, I'd be dead now." He said in his kind voice. He turned blue eyes on Rukia, and she smiled a little at the gratefulness there.

Hisagi snarled, obviously not ready to be placated. "And she left the rest of us for dead." He spat. "I'm surprised she even bothered to get back up to try and help us. The nobles never care for street-rats, do they?"

The implied criticism of her relationship with Renji stung. Despite herself, Rukia felt anger welling up in her gut. She was willing to tolerate Hisagi's hatred, because she understood the hurt that lurked beneath his gaze. Even so, she was never one to lie down and have her relationship with her friends accused. She _always_ fought to protect them. Always.

With all the self control she contained in the world, she ground her teeth and began, "is this really the time-?"

But he cut her off with a snort. "You'd avoid talking about it ever, because this is all your fault." He hissed. "All of it!"

He stepped forward, eyes alight with fury and jaw clenched. For a moment, Rukia stood straighter with true alarm. His spiritual pressure was growing radically, and a spare string of common sense told her that all that was doing was alarming all the hollows to their presence.

Including the parasite's.

She didn't have time to react, though. In a flash, Toshiro was beside them, glowering fiercely as he squared off towards Hisagi.

"She's right, this _isn't_ the time." He said in a voice so cold, Rukia imagined icicles dripping from it. "Put your anger away, Hisagi. Your immature fury is misplaced, and it's attracting hollows. None of this is Rukia's fault. If it were, she would have been punished long ago, and we wouldn't be in this forest trying to hunt down a parasite."

If anyone had happened upon the scene, they would find this a ridiculous sight. The shorter, white haired man staring imposingly at the towering Hisagi. Yet, Rukia thought suddenly, Toshiro wasn't as short as he used to be.

He had grown nearly a head taller than her. When had that happened?

Yet Toshiro's fury was not to be messed with, and when Hisagi refused to move back, the air began to grow colder. The captain didn't flinch, but his eyes narrowed dangerously, and the temperature continued to drop, until one could see their breath as it escaped their mouths.

Kira finally stepped forward, placing a soothing hand on Hisagi's shoulder. This seemed to shove him back into the present, and the man suddenly stumbled back, eyes dropping. He, of all people, knew his limits. And there wasn't a chance he could match Toshiro when it came to sheer power.

The captain relaxed as he stepped away. Confident the issue was temporarily resolved, he turned back towards the forest. "Let's go." He said coolly. "If you have enough energy to accuse someone else, you should be good to run."

If Hisagi were a lesser man, he would have complained at the unfairness of it. Of course, Toshiro wasn't known for being fair, and so he bit back a retort and nodded. Not that it mattered. The captain suddenly flash stepped away, with Rukia stumbling after him. There wasn't time to meet Kira's concerned gaze, and wonder at the worry that twinkled there. Instead he launched himself forward, without forgetting to dampen his raised spiritual pressure.

They raced through the trees, winding in and out of the graying landscape. Rukia didn't have her own tracker out, but after a few minutes of running, Toshiro slowed. She felt a weak pulse of a familiar reiatsu. The parasite was nearby.

Then he halted, waiting for the parasite to get a little further away before continuing their stalking. Rukia stayed close behind him, while Kira brought up the rear, watching carefully for any signs of attack.

They were lucky. Most of the hollows had been left far behind, and were confused at the sudden speed of the potential prey. The calls and groans they heard were far off, but no less alarming.

She heard Toshiro hum thoughtfully from in front of her. He glanced behind him, eyes narrowing slightly as they locked on her. Perhaps it was simple reaction, but she stiffened immediately, catching his gaze with her obedient one. He turned his eyes away quickly, and for some reason, she felt as if she failed some sort of test.

"I don't like this." She heard him say quietly, more to himself than to her. "It feels wrong."

Almost without thinking, she said, "maybe the parasite isn't as dumb as we thought?"

Her suggestion was quiet, and meant to be as self-reflective as his words. Yet he spun around to face her, eyes wide with surprise. She blinked back at him, surprised by his sudden reaction.

"What did you say?" He snapped, but she didn't get a chance to reply. His phone beeped, and all four of the group jumped. He glanced at the screen, and swore softly beneath his breath.

He didn't have to call the others to follow him. He set off quickly, hoping that his subordinates would know to stay close. They did, leaping behind him, and Rukia considered what made him glare so suddenly.

The captain was really an enigma. One that she didn't think she had a chance of knowing. He was close to Rangiku, sure. She didn't know Rangiku extremely well either, but when she did speak of her captain, she chose to do so with fondness. Anyone with eyes could see that their relationship was based on close trust and friendship, even if it was strange due to them being such opposites of each other.

Yet she had hardly spared him much thought in the past months. Probably because Rangiku's deteriorating condition had hardly affected her. She had heard of it, for sure, but the woman was still alive.

Technically.

The memory of seeing her writhing and screaming, unseeing, in the white hospital beds suddenly made Rukia sick. Toshiro had entered the hospital after her; he must have seen her condition. Her heart twisted suddenly and painfully for him. She knew what it felt like to watch your friends slowly wither away incapacitated.

Yet he stood with the same strength and power she had always known him for. She never had a heart-to-heart with the captain, but she had seen him fight, and she had seen the power and determination he held first hand. It was baffling to her that he seemed so unchanged.

That thought made her shiver. Grief was a normal part of living when others died. It was what someone was supposed to feel – sorrow for their comrade's departure. So why did he seem so placid?

No matter what answer she tried to come up with, all of them were inadequate, or too troubling to try and put her finger on. She felt as if she were imposing, simply by ruminating on it.

Toshiro once again halted, and the others came to silent stops behind him. His eyes were staring wide and furious in front of him, and it took them a moment to realize what made the captain so angry.

Rukia inhaled deeply, and started as she felt the familiar wave of dying spiritual pressure clinging to the bent trees and gouged ground. It only took one glance at the carnage to realize where exactly they were. They had, after all, been in the exact place only hours before.

She pressed forward until she stood beside the captain, who cast her a bitterly bemused glance with turquoise eyes. For some reason, Rukia found the look absolutely heart breaking.

"Looks like you were right, Kuchiki." He mumbled, his normally cool tone spiked with fury. "Who would have guessed we were following an intelligent parasite?"

The irony was not lost on her.

Kira crept up beside them, looking bewildered. "We were just here." He whispered, as if afraid to raise his voice too high.

"Of course." Hisagi snarled, too angry to spare his fury on Rukia. "Akon, that dumb bastard. The freaking thing is taking us in circles on purpose."

Rukia sighed, taking a moment to glance upwards into the endless dark. One couldn't even see the trees as they disappeared into the upper ground. Everything around her was dank and black, and she couldn't help but feel a little lost. When she looked down at the ground, light green blades of grass poked from the ground. With some amusement, she recalled someone telling her once that, when it was too dark, one couldn't see color. The only time color was seen was in the presence of light.

She had been to Hueco Mundo more than once, but as she glanced around her, she realized this was the first time she wondered where that light came from.

* * *

><p>Hm, a little shorter than normal, but we're finally getting into the nitty-gritty of it. Sorry, still, for the lack of romantic moments. And honestly, I don't think Hisagi is a bad guy. But he does have a darkness about him, and he makes such a good dark hero.<p>

I had fun writing him, but I haven't written him often, so forgive me for any out of character-ness. I try my best with all the characters.

And I am, honestly, curious about there being light in Hueco Mundo. Anyone else notice there wasn't exactly a sun down there?

Until next time!


	6. To the Heavens, but Skip the Stars

Still reading this? That's amazing! I know my plot and character development is slow, as well as the romantic moments being few and far between, but that's just how a story like this works. I can't rush it, or else it'll turn out so much crappier, and I've put in too much time for it to be crappy. So thanks to everyone who's bothered to stick with me and review! It means a lot!

And as many of you pointed out to me in reviews, Kira used to be a member of the fourth division. Now I'm not saying that I totally forgot that little fact… but… well… this chapter will probably put more emphasis on it.

Enjoy!

o.o.o.o

_For the time is coming when people_

_Will not endure sound teaching,_

_But having itching ears they will accumulate_

_For themselves teachers to suit their own passions._

_2 Timothy 4:3, ESV_

o.o.o.o

Silence.

It was silence so thick, to not hear it would be impossible. Stifling and pressuring, almost damaging in its solid intensity. It was true silence – the type that lurked in darkness and suffocated those stupid enough to enter.

The servant shifted from foot to foot, anything to break this silence that quelled even the sound of his own breath. The rustling of his clothes seemed muted as well. Only the voice of the coal-haired man could break such noise.

"A guest?"

It was early. Not before dawn, but practically so. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and the ground was still chilled and wet from dew. The elder Kuchiki sat just outside of the cover of his mansion. Tea steamed hot in his hands, while the reflection of the sunrise in the ponds showed bright pinks streaking into baby blue.

"Yes, sir." The servant responded, bowing his head respectfully. "It's Captain Ukitake."

As if taking this as his cue, the white-haired captain stuck his head around the corner, grinning warm and kind while Byakuya's brow creased in the only show of a mental grimace. "Morning, Captain Kuchiki." He said brightly. "Mind if I join you?"

Forgetting that Ukitake had blatantly invited himself in, Byakuya merely closed his eyes. "Suit yourself." He spoke quietly. His tone was anything but welcoming, but Ukitake smiled all the same.

He settled down beside him, sitting cross-legged on the wooden porch. A servant dropped a warm cup of tea in his hands, smiling respectfully. He breathed in the scent deeply, smelling the earthy, wooden scents of the brew. It seemed to pump new life into his blood, invigorating his tired eyes.

For his part, Byakuya did nothing to dissuade or rebuke the captain. Despite his more care-free lifestyle, Captain Ukitake was one of the first to graduate from the academy, and trained directly beneath the Captain Commander. His body may be weak, but that just made the vast power he contained even more impressive.

Despite the curiosity that curled naturally inside of him, the darker did nothing but drink some more of his drink and stare at the changing colors of the sunset reflected upon the pond. Every so often, a fish would flicker above the surface, and it would ripple all shades of fire.

Minutes passed, and Ukitake waited until his tea was nearly half drained before speaking. He rested the cup on his legs, saying, "Perhaps it's no surprise that I'm here about your sister."

"…" The only responding sound was Byakuya sipping his tea. When it became obvious Ukitake wouldn't move on without prompting, he made a listening, "oh?"

Smiling slightly, the elder brushed long strings of hair behind his shoulders. "I'm worried about her, you see. Surely as her brother, you'd understand this fear?"

His gaze was prompting, and despite the Kuchiki's own coldness, he had to try not to flinch. In the back of his mind, he could recall the day that the white-haired man, who owed Rukia nothing, put his own life on the line to save her. Yet Byakuya, who owed her everything, stood by listlessly.

Even tried to fight for her death.

Ukitake was a warm man, though. He held grudges sparingly, and he believed that past actions only accounted for the immediate future. Therefore, his brown eyes were earnest. He wasn't here to mock.

Under such a powerful gaze, Byakuya felt no need to try and deny the fact. He placed a now empty cup beside him with a soft _click_, and closed his eyes softly.

"Of course." He said, the coolness of his voice failing to betray any actual concern. His mouth crinkled slightly, though, which the other man seemed to see. "But why does that bring you here?"

The captain shifted, either embarrassed or uncomfortable with his answer. He took a long moment to ponder, but the silence that fell between them was no longer so stiff and stifling. Ukitake carried with him a blanket of kindness that seemed to radiate silence away.

"Because, she's recently been made into a lieutenant." He sighed. "Don't get me wrong, everyone knows she's talented and strong enough for the job. But everyone also thinks that she's getting over her friends' deaths, and I'm frightened that she might take these dangerous jobs as a…" he drifted off, obviously pondering over his next words. There was no need, really. Byakuya could tell exactly where he was heading, even if he hated it.

"… as a way out." He finally finished, the words falling flat and sour on his tongue.

His first reaction was to rebuke Ukitake. Despite Rukia's obvious sadness, her desire to uphold the Kuchiki name was powerful. It was hard to imagine she'd tarnish it through suicide.

But then again, that wasn't what Ukitake was implying. The fact was that a lieutenant was sent on dangerous missions often. A slip of the foot, or a hesitance in battle, could easily cost her life. It wasn't that hard to believe. After all, isn't that what happened to the buxom lieutenant of Squad 10?

Silence did its best to return this time. Ukitake bent his head, just as somber as the Kuchiki captain. He hadn't really wanted to say it, but no matter how much he thought about it, the idea wouldn't go away.

To his surprise, though, Byakuya spoke quickly. "It doesn't matter about that." He said quietly, stony voice softer than normal.

Ukitake's warm brown gaze widened, staring at Byakuya in surprise. "Doesn't matter?" He echoed, sounding shocked. "Of course it matters. Are you going to stand there and let your little sister throw herself in harm's way willingly?"

The veiled criticism stung, especially coming from him, but Byakuya did his best to ignore it. "No." He responded, just as swiftly. His own hard gray orbs stared steadfastly ahead. "There are other plans for Rukia when she returns from this mission."

There was something about the way he said it, the coldness and the quiet loathing, that made Ukitake's hair stand on end. Byakuya glared at the ground in front of him, as if trying to will something, or someone, to death.

"To be honest, Captain Ukitake, you'll probably have to part with your lieutenant for awhile."

His words hung thick and crashing in the crisp morning air. Ukitake couldn't fathom what to say, and Byakuya said all that he felt was needed. They continued there, in True Silence, as the sun slowly turned the water a pale shade of blue.

o.o.o.o.

Shadow is stubborn, reader.

Maybe that is why it doesn't need a source to exist. Shadow is the inherent result of the absence of light. It comes from nowhere, and only budges its existence when light comes along to shove it aside.

Light, however, is much more fickle than shadow. It needs a source, a switch, a fire, to make it come alive. Because it is so attached to its source, it is much more willing to bend to the needs of others.

So if you've ever wondered, reader, why it is so important to 'capture light', as the saying goes, it is because to capture shadow it impossible.

Light can be tamed, whether in the form of a soft candle-lit glow or a flickering light bulb. It can practically be held in the hands, when it isn't also burning.

But how can one hold shadow? How can a hand, so infinitely physical and definite, hold something that needs no anchor to exist?

No one can. Shadow is destined to be untouchable, with its only companions to be knowledge, darkness and evil, three others that cannot capture shadow, but can live comfortably within its realm.

To understand why shadow is stubborn, reader, is to understand its loneliness. Without light, shadow is lost within itself. It is horribly devastated at its lack of being understood or held. It believes that nothing else in the world is capable of understanding it. And maybe, reader, that is a truth.

For in that moment, Toshiro saw within Hisagi the true flickers of shadow. Stubborn, and lost in its cold mystery, a sad loneliness, as deep as despair. He was baring his teeth furiously at Captain Hitsugaya, who was doing his best to be stern without being coarse. Despite his own lack of fairness at times, he was concerned with pushing Hisagi even more over the edge.

Not that he needed to have worried. Hisagi was perfectly capable of pushing himself to the brinks of insanity.

"A parasite that is intelligent enough to lead us in circles, a murderer," he turned cruel eyes upon Rukia, "and a forest full of hollows willing to eat us. What in the world makes it seem like this is a mission possible of being completed?"

He was furious, and everyone could see it. His fists were clenched so tight, his knuckles showed pale white. His teeth kept gnashing and gritting with screaming effort, while his eyes glinted so hard, they might as well have been made of glass.

Hisagi truly was frightening when angry.

So frightening, in fact, that, from the corner of his teal gaze, Toshiro could see both Rukia and Kira step back nervously. He seemed to be the only one capable of standing up to Hisagi's fury, if only because he himself knew what it was like to harvest such anger.

Drawing himself up taller, he met the poisonous glare with one of pure ice. "Stow your anger, Lieutenant Hisagi." He bit out icily. He didn't have to fake his irritation. The lieutenant's constant attitude was truly beginning to give him a headache. "And before you start handing out accusations and blame that are useless, we need to think of what to do next."

Hisagi's glare was murder, but the frigidity leaking from the captain's reiatsu was not to be trifled with. He turned back to the others, glad that in the frenzy, Kira had pulled out his own phone, and was keeping an eye on the parasite's whereabouts.

"If it's going in circles, it must mean it realizes we're on its trail, and it either wants to shake us-"

"Everyone knows that." Hisagi muttered bitterly. Toshiro didn't waste the effort to glare at him.

"-or attach to one of us, as well." He finished, noting how they all seemed to stand a little straighter at that. An infection from the parasite was certain death, and not in a painless way.

He ran his teal gaze over all of them, somewhat glad for his choice of support. Even if Hisagi was driving the tension higher than the trees, no one could doubt his ability. Kira was always a solid, if quiet, base of support. And as for Rukia…

Well, he didn't really know much about the younger Kuchiki. She was as ethereal to him as he was to her. She had done her best to stay quiet and out of the way this whole mission, but she was the one who seemed to have an instinct for the parasite's game. Yet her own observations were just as surprising to her as it was to him.

With a note of wonder, he realized that, although he had never really known her, she had been very different, once. He recalled seeing her fighting at Kurosaki's side, all elegance and grace while wielding her zanpakuto with all the cold passion the most beautiful blade in Seretei demanded. Now she seemed ready to wither whenever Hisagi's eyes fell on her.

Which was rather often.

Pushing the thought away, he surveyed the others with interest. "We should probably keep following it, for now." Came Kira's voice, quiet and strained. "Maybe it just can't find the hollow?"

His suggestion sounded like a weak question, and Toshiro shrugged the implicated hope from his shoulders. Still, Izuru had a point. "Then take lead." He said calmly, trying not to smirk as Kira's eyes widened in surprise. "You have the most subdued reiatsu of us all, Lieutenant Kira. Perhaps it won't sense you."

It was a long shot, but it was an idea that at least held some sort of reason. Kira took the lead, looking slightly doubtful, but Toshiro didn't waver. The lieutenant might have a kind, shy exterior, but one didn't claim the second seat by being weak.

For some reason, as he thought of that, warm chocolate brown eyes and porcelain skin strayed to his mind. He shook it off just as quickly.

In front of him, Kira flashed out of sight, and suddenly they were all running again. Rested slightly from the pause, they were able to keep up with Kira's slow, methodical movements. Even Hisagi's breath stayed placid and even, despite the blood loss he had suffered.

If the parasite was leading them in circles, Toshiro thought, they are very elaborate ones. They chased the thing for nearly half an hour before it made a slight stop, and they paused to catch their breath. Another hour later, and they still had yet to return to the same markings of the battle.

"This is useless." Hisagi panted when they stopped for a third time. By now he was feeling dizzy again, and the weakening in his knees made him more irritable. "It's not going anywhere."

Toshiro had to agree with this sentiment. It was probably truer than saying the parasite was going in circles. Instead, it was having more fun trailing in every which way it could think of. The reapers were getting worn out, and what was worse was the growing cacophony of nearby hollows. If they faced another full on attack, he wasn't sure they'd be able to continue on with this mission.

But they were so close, _so close,_ and as much as he had wanted to deny it, he found that the idea of revenge had taken a tantalizing hold on his tongue. Maybe he hadn't lost friends in the way Rukia had, but that didn't mean he was completely indifferent. His own lieutenant was suffering from its claws, and who knew what damage it would cause if left to its own devices?

His own rush of decision surprised him. So much so, that he was distracted when Kira suddenly gasped out a hasty warning.

He stepped forward automatically, but Rukia's sudden warm hand on his arm yanked him backwards. He stumbled with a silent hiss, reaching out to unsheathe his blade and use it to steady him.

Beside him, Hisagi bit out a curse, and Hitsugaya's eyes latched onto Kira.

They had been too out of breath to notice the parasite suddenly doubling back, sensing that a new meal was nearby. Kira, logically, was the first to spot it, and after rasping out the warning, tried his best to ward the parasite off.

He struck out with his blade, but the ugly pale thing wriggled and dodged. The lieutenant was at a loss. He didn't want to kill it, but contact could be fatal.

The others drew their blades as well, looking just as unsure as Kira. Hisagi was the only one who made a decisive choice. Snarling for blood, he lurched forward, calling his shikai to wake.

But his advancement startled the parasite. Longing for a safe place to hide, it lunged to the person it was closest to. The blonde lieutenant.

Kira gasped as he tried to dodge, but the thing was quick and slippery, and wrapped around his hand. It was racing upwards, trying to find an opening it could slip into…

"Watch out!" Rukia suddenly hissed, her blade lunging out to swipe at the parasite.

Her movements were so deft, she managed to only nick it. The resulting momentum sent it tumbling off of him and towards Hitsugaya. In the dim background, he could hear Kira give a yelp of pain while Hisagi swore.

The captain felt his blood run cold, and he raced through in his mind to remember the same incantation Akon had used. Muttering quickly, he struck out his hand just as the parasite gathered itself to leap at him, and cast the reiatsu binding spell. A surge of power built up in his chest and was unleashed on the parasite in a sickly green glow.

The parasite fell to the ground with a thud, writhing piteously. It was struck blind, again, and Toshiro seized this chance.

"Move." He hissed at his team, grabbing Hisagi and pushing him into motion. Behind him, he vaguely heard the other two following.

He didn't make them go far. The captain could smell blood that was fresh, so he stopped at the edge of a thick cropping of trees. Gesturing, the others followed him into the grove. At least this would offer a little bit of safety from renegade hollows.

He turned to face them, and blinked as the smell of blood grew thicker. Kira was clutching his arm, eyes wide in pain. When Rukia had gone in to slice the parasite, the brunt of her attack was taken by the blonde.

His forearm was gashed wide, but he was doing his best to pretend that it was nothing. He pressed his hand firmly to the wound, ignoring the stinging, and blinking while the blood continued to pour down his flesh.

"Izuru!" Hisagi gasped, his concern causing him to forget the proper honorifics. "Are you alright?"

He shook his head in return, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine." He smiled thinly. "It's nothing compared to what would have happened to me."

Perhaps, when he turned to face Rukia, he meant to thank her. She was just standing there, looking a little dumbstruck, and a little regretful, too. Toshiro thought with a jolt that she had wanted to kill the parasite as well.

Not that he should be too surprised. That thing was just inside of Orihime Inoue.

Kira, however, never got a chance to express his gratitude. When he turned, so did Hisagi, but he did so with pure malice.

"Look what you've done!" He snapped angrily, causing the previously vague looking Kuchiki to jump into presence. "You nearly sliced Kira's arm off!"

"I…" she trailed off meekly. Her violet eyes were wide. Kira, from behind, tried to voice that the cut was nowhere near that deep, but his attempts were completely ignored.

Hisagi advanced quickly on the shorter girl, using his height to loom over her dangerously. "Is it in your nature to completely disregard your comrades' safety?" he accused her, eyes venomous.

Rukia continued to stare at him, at a momentary loss of what to say. Beside them, Toshiro felt thick waves of irritation building on impatience rising up his throat. As much as he knew that this was an issue that wouldn't be solved in the depths of the forest, Hisagi's constant arguing was getting under his skin.

Because, he supposed, he had worked with the lieutenant before, and he had never spent so much time being angry. Sure, he was ruthless by nature, but he always kept a strict holding on his fury, afraid that he might end up hurting someone.

Apparently, that part of his nature was twisted along the way, because the way he glared at Rukia showed that he desired to make her _suffer._ And it was working, too.

She squirmed underneath his eyes, but because he paused for an answer, she offered one. "I didn't mean to slice Lieutenant Kira, but would you rather have the parasite in him?" She rebuked. Toshiro blinked in surprise. Despite her shaking hands, her voice came out with even more strength than Hisagi's.

But the man sneered back at her, calling her on her bluff. "That's always how it is with you." He snarled. "You never think. That's why Kaien died, that's why Ichigo was infected, and that's why Rangiku is now in a coma."

He finished heavily, and the captain's cerulean eyes opened wide in shock. He spent so much time blaming himself for that incident, he had no idea that Hisagi was shoving that burden onto the Kuchiki's shoulders.

He expected her to snap back just as furiously, but suddenly, the Kuchiki's shoulders slumped, and her violet eyes were avoiding his. There was a long silence, with Hisagi glaring and Rukia staring at the ground, bangs covering her violet eyes.

The groan of a distant hollow passed between them, causing Kira's head to jerk and Toshiro's shoulders to tense. Hisagi, a look of disgust on his face, turned away from Rukia.

"I knew it." He said bitterly, and Toshiro could have sworn he heard a pang of disappointment in his tone.

He began to step away from her – perhaps to attend the still bleeding Kira, who was attending himself – when she raised her head suddenly. It was hard to look at the expression on her face. It was so blank, save for her eyes, which weren't glistening, but were close.

"You're right." She croaked softly. So softly, that the shadows surrounding them nearly swallowed that sound.

The lieutenant immediately turned to face her, eyes wide. Shock read on his face, as well as on the face of all the other reapers. The last thing they had expected was for the normally willful Kuchiki to accept such ludicrous blame.

"What did you say?" He demanded, his voice nearly as quiet as hers. She raised her eyes to meet his. For a moment, her posture looked defiant. "You're right." She repeated, this time louder. "Kaien's death is on my shoulders, as well as… everyone else's." Her voice seized a little bit, and she found she couldn't list off anyone's names. The wound was still too raw. "But… even so, we still have a mission."

Those words rang louder than anything else they could hear. Hisagi was rooted to the spot, and only the soft glow from Kira's healing hands could make Toshiro blink.

In her voice held a soft promise, so quiet and unnoticed, but never wavering. She would take that burden, almost willingly, but she refused to let her shoulders bow until they found the source of this pain. It was a challenge, and Hisagi teetered on the edge, unsure of how to accept it. Everything in his face indicated this wasn't what he expected.

Finally, he took another step back, giving her a derisive snort. "So we do." He said. The anger in his voice was gone, and in its place was a cold detachment. Toshiro saw it was because he felt he had lost, even if he wasn't the one trying to blink back tears before they could materialize.

Just like that, the tension between them had changed from strained to contemptible. It was obvious that wasn't what Hisagi had been looking for when confronting the Kuchiki. He was dissatisfied. His anger no longer coalesced around him, but his glare was still sharp as flint.

Nothing, really, had changed.

Nothing but Toshiro's own perspective. He glanced at each one of them now, trying to understand how he had been so blind. Perhaps because he never really realized how close Rangiku and Hisagi were. Even if they went out drinking, and were sometimes partnered, she never really spoke of him to the captain.

But then again, he thought with bemusement, that made sense. Why would she ever speak to him about her relationships? He snapped at her when she did, and when he was too focused to snap, he just ignored her entirely.

What was more confusing, though, was Rukia's own willingness to take the blame. He _knew_ that his lieutenant and the Kuchiki hadn't been close. No closer than she had been with Kira or Hisagi. They knew each other formally, perhaps only on friendly terms through Renji's relationship and Rangiku's tendency to adopt every girl in her path.

Another hollow's scream, and he was jolted from his thoughts. He mentally berated himself, noting that if he could drift off into his thoughts in the middle of the _Menos Forest_, he truly must be going somewhat insane. So he glanced at Kira, who still had his phone out.

"It's not moving." He said quietly, sounding almost embarrassed to talk after the argument. Still, he could spare his timidity to give Toshiro and awed look. "You must have really blinded it."

Hitsugaya took a moment to reflect on that. He hadn't thought he used much power, but then again, he was a captain when Akon wasn't even a lieutenant. There was a chance his spell was much stronger.

"Good." He said gruffly, his voice drawing the attention of even blank-looking Rukia. "That will give us time. Still…" he trailed off when he heard another call, "… we can't stay here for very long. We're practically sitting ducks."

Despite himself, he took a moment to glare at both Hisagi and Rukia. Even if she was the accused, their loud voices obviously gave something away. They both had the decency to drop their gaze.

"How's your arm?" he turned back to Kira, who pulled away his hand. He looked very tired, with bags beneath his eyes. The blonde had always been a good healer, but anyone who didn't train with it often found it energy-sapping.

"Fine." He responded, smiling slightly despite his lack of energy. As if to prove it, he turned his wrist. The robes were cut, but the skin beneath was pink and firm, if a little new and frail. Toshiro dimly remembered that Kira was a member of the fourth squad. So the Captain Commander put together a pretty decent team, he mused.

Then again, perhaps the cut wasn't so deep after all, Toshiro thought. On instinct, he glanced at Rukia. For some reason, he found that he hoped she noticed. Her blank stare, which he was beginning to associate as her guilty one, was getting on his nerves.

He couldn't see her expression. She had turned her head away.

Shrugging mentally, he waved them on. "Then let's go." He said. "We'll keep a slow pace. Lieutenant Kira, take the lead again."

He expected his words to be a surprise, so he hardly reacted when Hisagi nearly snarled. But Kira merely nodded, and stepped out in front. The captain wanted him to set the pace, and he knew Hisagi would stay close behind him. They had lost the most blood, so he and the Kuchiki were the strongest. They would take up the rear.

Despite the fact that it was his idea, when the others fell into formation without him saying anything, he felt a strange surge of disappointment. Maybe he had hoped Hisagi would get over it and simply apologize to Rukia himself. Now he was sure there was no way in Hell that was happening.

Silently, he stalked behind the lieutenants, clever turquoise eyes scanning the existing shadows for signs of life. He didn't see any, and even if he couldn't spot them, nothing dark and toothy attempting to jump out and slay them.

The spell he had put on the parasite was much stronger than he had predicted. They ended up circling it twice, stopping at each circle to rest for a minute. It has always been an advantage to not actually need to eat or sleep. With the tempered movements and slow pace, Kira and Hisagi were beginning to look stronger.

Yet, during all that time, the captain couldn't help that his thought were continuously drifting back to the Kuchiki. Her total acceptance of Hisagi's blame completely baffled him. So when they stopped for a second time, he turned his teal eyes on her to say, "Lieutenant Matsumoto's condition isn't your fault."

She seemed startled at that, turning to face him quickly. Her eyes were wide, but then she recalled she was speaking to a captain, and she lowered her gaze slightly.

When she didn't answer right away, he pressed on. "It isn't. Those of us closest to her had no idea she was going to do something so… stupid." The word tasted like bile on his tongue. Maybe because he knew she hadn't done it out of stupidity.

Rukia sensed that too, and she shook her head. "Lieutenant Matsumoto knew what she was doing." She said quietly, and somewhat awkwardly. "Still, maybe that's why I should have noticed. Because I didn't know her so well as you all-"

Toshiro's eyes widened in surprise, and he found himself cutting her off with an indignant snort. "That argument makes no sense." He snapped at her. She winced, and he immediately felt a little guilty.

In a softer tone, he said, "For some unfathomable reason, you've allowed Hisagi to dump that burden on you. You shouldn't let him have his own way."

His words finished off as scornful. In hindsight, he was seeing Hisagi's petulant arguments as that of a bitter child.

Rukia, to his confusion, simply looked away bitterly. Her hands were knotted behind her back. "I already carry all of those other deaths." She said quietly, despairingly. "What's one more?"

Perhaps she hadn't meant for him to hear, but he did. Her words sent a surge of anger through him – one that was, for the first time in awhile, very real. "Rangiku's death was not just _one more_." He growled, not noticing in his passion that he forgot to refer to Rangiku as his lieutenant. "You hardly knew her, and her condition shouldn't really be any of your concern. That is something that lies with her close friends, not her passing colleagues. To try and take responsibility for it is muddying the rest of her relationships."

As he spoke, Kira and Hisagi crept a little closer, curious at the exchange. Sensing them approaching, Toshiro gave Shūhei a meaningful glare, although he directed his words back to Rukia. "You seem to have enough on your mind already, Lieutenant Kuchiki, and the fate of Matsumoto will not be added to your conscience. I have that taken care of."

His words were spoken with such cold command, the suddenly mute girl had no idea what else to do besides nod. When Toshiro turned back towards the other boys, Hisagi was glowering at the trees.

The sudden silence that fell between them all was thick, but not really true. Kira took a chance and broke it first, clearing his throat softly.

"I think the spell's finally wore off the parasite." He said. "It's starting to move."

The captain gave a curt nod. "Good." He said. "Let's give it a little more space than before."

Kira mumbled an understanding, and settled down to wait a little bit longer. Toshiro risked another glance at Rukia, and was surprised to find that her strange blank look had gone away. In its place was an expression of intense thought. Her eyebrows were furrowed thickly, and she worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

When she felt the captain's gaze, she turned back to him. Her mouth opened slightly, as if ready to say something. But then she changed her mind and ducked her head again. That didn't bother the captain much. He wanted a moment to think, anyways.

Mostly because he felt his heart beating rapidly in his chest, in the kind of way that made his stomach a little fluttery as well. That was a sensation that he hadn't felt in such a long time, it was like something completely new.

You remember those bugs, right, reader? The ones that infest the mind and do their best to make the outside body work, but the heart is never exactly the same?

If you recall, these bugs infested Toshiro Hitsugaya, and this story explained that, while the captain had continued to handle business as always, he did it with a sort of emptiness.

That is because of these bugs. Since they are working to make the outside normal, there's no need to make the inside function as well. Basic emotions become a nuisance. Even something as mundane and normal as feeling bored was hardly felt. Everyday he faced his obstacles with little more aptitude than being on autopilot.

In its place was a long, thick ocean of nothing, broken up only by islands of guilt and self-loathing. These seemed to be the only emotions the captain could really handle. And although he would never admit it, they were the only ones that could lend some sort of comfort to his writhing mind.

But just now, he felt something swimming in his stomach. It was warm. No, more than warm. It was red-hot and spiky. It made his heart beat erratically and his throat tighten, as well as his hands clench and his cheeks flush.

It was anger. Not irritation, not annoyance, not cheek. It was real, and it made his tongue thick with sharp words.

Perhaps there are better emotions to experience after such a long period of dormancy, but it was so different, so _ethereal_, that he found his anger was growing. It was building up in his veins and making his blood boil. It wasn't just something he was supposed to feel. It was his emotion, and it hit him like a bucket of cold water to his face.

On instinct, his fingers flexed upon Hyorinmaru's hilt. He could have sworn he heard the ice dragon chuckling against his palm.

The source of his anger, to his own bemusement, was Rukia, and not Hisagi. How dare she try and take responsibility for Rangiku's condition? That guilt was his own to bear, along with, as he said, those who truly knew her. He would have been calmer if he knew that the two shared a special connection, but they didn't. They shared nothing, save for a few common friends and an interest in sake every once and awhile. More than every once in a while, whenever Lieutenant Matsumoto was involved.

So why would she try to take that burden? The question was infuriating him. He himself wouldn't take the deaths of Renji or Ichigo or even Chad personally. Even if they somewhat knew each other, their deaths were no blood on his hands. He had mourned them, just as he had mourned Orihime's. But the only blame he could place upon himself is that he hadn't been able to kill the hollow earlier.

Yet Rukia seemed hell-bent on taking every death upon herself. 'I already carry all of those other deaths.' She had said. 'What's one more?'

Oh.

He chuckle rather mercilessly within his own mind. They were much more similar than he had known, but still so vastly different, it was breathtaking.

Would you recall when this story asked what the opposite of ice is? This story pointed out that, while ice and snow were opposites, they were also nearly the same thing. The resulting dynamic is a phenomenon.

She would bear that guilt because Hisagi asked her to. Because that was the price for having a noble heart filled with half-hopes and empathy. Rukia Kuchiki had to be a realist. They were born in a similar situation. Hell, her early life was probably even dirtier than his. At least he had had a home and a granny and Momo. She had had friends, but all of them had eventually disappeared.

But it was hard not to hope when one became close with Ichigo Kurosaki. The man was an idealist, if Toshiro had ever met one. Perhaps not a dreamer, but he did have the strange idea that every person should stand on equal ground. Not to mention his annoying tendency to refuse to give up, no matter who or what told him that it was impossible.

And even if the hopes Rukia had were only built up by Kurosaki, she had always been noble. That was the trait expected of any Kuchiki, and despite the elder's grumbling, she had fit into their proverbs extremely well.

Noble people, he had been told once, have the strange need to take the responsibility for everyone around them. It was because noble people were strong, and they always desired to protect the weak. Rukia didn't really see Rangiku's condition as a reason to feel guilty. But she was noble, and she understood that Hisagi had no other way to deal with his sadness and guilt. So she agreed to be his scapegoat.

The sudden realization caused the anger to flee his body. Naturally, he expected it to be replaced by some sort of remorse, or maybe even sympathy. But he was far too used to those bugs for emotions to come and go so easily to him. It was replaced by his normal nothing. It settled in on his normally-beating heart, and he breathed in deeply to stifle the pain it set off in his forehead.

After feeling so passionately, the stasis which blocked his veins suddenly made him feel very heavy and very, very tired. It became an impossibly large task to try and track down this parasite for revenge. Revenge felt like it wasted so much energy, and a small part of him wondered desperately when it became wearying to feel. Just earlier, the idea of revenge incited him. Now it fell like a dull, fading possibility on his shoulder.

Beside him, he heard Rukia shuffle. He spared her a look, knowing that his normally placid/annoyed look was plastered onto his face. It had been there for months, so why would it change now?

Yet she was staring back at him. No, peering back at him. As if her violet eyes were probing his features and penetrating a mask he didn't even really know he was wearing.

He must have made some face back at her, probably a raised eyebrow of questioning, because she glanced away, looking slightly flustered. He reached a hand up to touch the soft skin on his cheek, and wondered how long it has been since it tightened in a smile.

For a moment, he considered trying it, but decided against it. In such a grim situation, the lieutenants would believe him gone mad if he started smiling for no reason.

At least, that's what he tried to tell himself. He ignored the voice telling him that it was simply because he had no idea how to anymore.

Kira suddenly made a noise, and the whole team turned to face him. Toshiro spotted Hisagi risking another glare at Rukia. In his eyes was the look of a man held back too long, and he wanted to strike out.

That was the point of his anger, Toshiro realized idly. He didn't want Rukia to take his burden. He just wanted her to strike back.

Why he chose the Kuchiki, with nearly no relationship to Rangiku, to bully was beyond him. Maybe it was because of her connection with the hollow. Maybe it was because Rangiku had very few friends that _were_ easy to bully. There was himself, who would give Hisagi much more than a strike back if he was accused in that way. Gin was gone, Momo was in a coma, and Kira was Hisagi's close friend. He couldn't risk trying to push him away like that.

Besides, Kira was noble and gentle, just like Rukia. He probably would allow himself to be subjugated, if he thought it would make his friend feel better.

Plus, he continued to muse, he could have been counting on Rukia to strike back. Maybe he expected her guilt to make her lash out. That showed how little he knew the Kuchiki. He had no idea that her noble ideals would make her so accepting. From the normally blank look on her face, Toshiro had a feeling that she experienced very few emotions as well. The only difference was that the prospect of revenge appeared to invigorate her, rather than tire her.

"He's nearly sixty meters away." Kira's voice broke through his thoughts. "Should we chase after it?"

After a moment, Toshiro realized they were all looking to him for the answer. In his long trail of daydream, he had almost forgotten that he was the only captain.

"Yes." He responded smoothly. "But keep a slow pace. Let's not creep in too close."

The lieutenant nodded in understanding, and took off at a brisk, but tempered, pace. The others followed, this time with Rukia dropping to the very rear. Just as well. The way his head was racing was making it hard for Toshiro to focus absolutely.

So he was, understandably, surprised when Rukia increased her pace to match his step for step. They went winding by each other's sides, and anyone who saw them moving would marvel at their ease. They stood so different, with his shock of white hair and her dark black tresses, but they moved with the instinct of each other's steps.

The captain sensed she wanted to speak first, so he let their silence elapse. It lasted so long, that he found he was a bit surprised when all she said was, "You're right. It's not my place to try and carry the guilt for Lieutenant Matsumoto."

That was all. No apology, no explanation. Not that he needed one. He merely nodded in return and resolutely ignored the tiny flickers of disappointment as she trailed behind him again.

Just like that, they were back to being captain and lieutenant. But he couldn't help glancing at her with a strange sort of wonder. Would it be presumptuous to say that he felt he understood her, even just a little bit?

He was losing himself to thought again, and he shook his head out of it. They were no longer just circling. They were chasing after the parasite again, and those hollow calls were getting too near for his liking.

The land of the Menos Forest looked so similar no matter where they went, it took nearly three hours before Kira announced that he thought they were being led in circles again. Toshiro wished vehemently that he was wrong, but he couldn't deny the fact that they had probably wandered a great deal of the forest by now. If the parasite was going to return to the hollow, it would have happened be now.

With a gruff command, he brought the group to a solid halt. The gathered around him, each of them panting hard. They may have been moving slowly, but they had been moving for hours now. Constant chasing and fighting was taking a toll. Even Rukia was beginning to drag her feet.

"We need a new plan." The captain spoke, although his words were unnecessary. They all nodded in eager agreement.

"Maybe we could just kill the stupid thing." Hisagi snarled, beneath his breath.

Familiar anger rose up in Toshiro's stomach. His tongue was twisted to snap, but to everyone's surprise, it was Kira who rounded on him.

"If we did that, we'd be endangering everyone!" He exclaimed. "We have to do this."

If anyone else had spoken, Hisagi would most likely have sneered back. Since it was Kira, the dark lieutenant merely dropped his eyes.

Captain Hitsugaya sighed, running his hands through stark white hair. "Lieutenant Kira's right." He said. "It's our responsibility to make sure no one else ends up having their organs shut down by a parasite." From the corner of his eye, he could see Rukia straighten slightly. So he was right. The prospect of revenge brought a new sparkle to her eyes.

"So what would you suggest?" Hisagi growled, looking chastened. "We put out some bait and hope the hollow comes to us?"

Rukia snorted, and Toshiro practically rolled his eyes. "Yes, and bring the countless hoards of waiting hollows upon us." He commented dryly. "Besides, we have no bait. And even if we did, the hollow we're chasing is known for hiding safely while it sends its parasites to do the work. We have no proof that it would even come."

"It might try to send another parasite." Rukia said quietly. With the suggestion put to rest, they fell into a thoughtful silence again.

"What if…" Kira started, and they turned their eyes to him. He balked slightly beneath the sudden attention, but continued. "What if the parasite can't find the hollow because it's not here?"

Toshiro drew in his breath, staring carefully at the blonde. It was the same suggestion as before, but he spoke it with much more belief now. "What do you mean?" He prompted.

Kira shrugged, looking just as confused as the rest of them. "Well, we all assumed that the parasite was smart, so it was leading us in circles. But maybe the reason is because it's not sure where the hollow is."

"Makes sense." Hisagi immediately offered, his stooping shoulders suddenly straightening. "Hollows are dumb at the best of times. They operate on their instincts. A parasite shouldn't be able to make the decision to lead us in circles."

It did make sense, to an extent. Something was bothering Toshiro, though. Something just didn't sound right about it. "But it led us here. And it's linked to the hollow. Why wouldn't it be able to find it?"

Kira shrugged, looking more like a confused student than a deliberative officer. The others knew better than to let that look fool them. "It led us to the Menos Forest after Akon blinded it." He reasoned. "It wouldn't be able to sense the hollow, then. And maybe the hollow isn't here or in Seretei."

Someone gasped, and Toshiro realized it was Rukia. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Kira. "It's in the world of the living." She said.

She sounded so certain, but Hisagi turned to sneer at her. "You say that like you know for certain. For all we know, maybe the hollow died of starvation because we were keeping its parasite."

From their past encounter, he was expecting her to wilt quickly. To his surprise, though, she glared back furiously. "Of course that didn't happen." She said scornfully. "I know because I was _there_ when Ichigo and Orihime and everyone else was attacked. The hollow was in the world of the living. It put its parasite in them while it was there. It has to be present to unleash another parasite. It's probably searching for another victim."

Hisagi fell into a brooding silence, but a new light entered Toshiro's eyes. Scaling around the Menos Forest was becoming a drag, and if they could confront the hollow in person… well… they weren't supposed to do that, but if it was to protect someone…

"Kira." He spoke in a decisive voice. The lieutenant snapped to attention. They all knew that tone. "Send a quick report back to Soul Society. We're going to have to herd the parasite into the world of the living."

The blonde gave him a searching look. "Are we going to wait for their permission?"

A fair question. They all had their limiters on, because not having them would draw way too much attention in the forest. But time was short, and the last thing the captain wanted was to go into battle with everyone ragged.

Oh well. While he was a serious captain, he did have a reputation for breaking the rules every now and then. Besides, he told himself. He had no real desire to attack the hollow and risk all their lives. But shooing it back to Hueco Mundo would definitely buy some time.

"No." He said, ignoring the gapes of surprise from everyone else. "We need to leave as soon as possible. When you're done sending the report, we'll start getting ready to bring the parasite to the world of the living."

o.o.o.o.

Heh. I think my chapters are getting shorter.

Well, another update done, and more on the way! I'm actually writing pretty fast, and I think it's because I'm excited for what's coming up soon. The wait is worth it!

If anyone disagrees with my portrayal of characters or just has a bit of constructive criticism or anything else *cough* except flames *cough*, drop a review or PM me. I'd love to explain my reasoning to someone else and maybe get some helpful feedback on the way. I'll avoid doing that now, because those who don't care won't read this anyways.

Until next time!


	7. Water's Where the Light-Killer Lives

Well, looks like I couldn't keep myself away for too long!

Thanks for bearing with me through my hiatus. This story (once again) has been giving me a hard time, and it was affecting my other stories. But, once again, I've broken through the blocks, and now we shall continue onwards!

Enjoy!

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><p>"<em>Look, as the day slows towards the space<em>

_That draws it into the dusk: rising became_

_Upstanding, standing a laying down, and then_

_That which accepts its lying blurs to darkness."_

_Rainer Maria Rilke_

* * *

><p><em>Once upon a time, she woke up to see the sun rise into a cloud streaked sky.<em>

_The rising hues blended the atmosphere into a fire-storm of pinks and reds and oranges and golds. All the colors of the fire, all of them. All of the wildness, so stifling and stretching that she had never felt so happy just to be alive._

'_I'm not in love with him.' She repeated within her mind. Over and over again, like a mantra. 'I'm not in love with him. I'm not in love with him. I'm not. In. Love. With. Him. I'm __**not**__ in love with him.'_

_She said it so often and so stolidly that even she began to believe it. She couldn't be in love with him, so therefore she wouldn't. Their lives were too different, the separation too great. His life still stretched in unmarked tiers before his feet, spread neatly to avoid tripping. She already jumped in without caring a wit for his well-being. How could she stay, and ruin it more?_

'_I'm not in love with him.' She chanted. The feeling in her chest couldn't be heartbreak, because that would require loving him._

_But as the sun continued to rise, and the freedom of the sky began to cool the flames into the distant colors of blue and green and even off-purple, he woke behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He rested his chin against her shoulder and his breath ruffled her hair. _

_In that instant, she knew that all the chanting in the world couldn't save her from falling._

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><p>In the end, getting the parasite through the portal into the world of the living proved not as hard as she thought it was going to be.<p>

Sure, it jumped at them more than once, and Captain Hitsugaya eventually just cast another spell on it, but she hadn't been sure if they were going to be able to get it through at all. Kira eventually stepped up bravely to carry it through. Nobody else really wanted to touch it.

As soon as they landed upon the rain-slicked streets, he all but threw it away from him. "It has the strangest texture." He mumbled, not really at her. "Like trying to hold a shadow."

Those words sent chills up Rukia's spine. Reflexively, she looked down at her own hands. Only nights ago, she spent her non-sleeping hours reaching for the darkness, attempting to grasp at it. The fact that Izuru looked so shaken caused her stomach to clench.

"I think you cast the spell too strong again." Hisagi muttered to the captain. While his voice wasn't cold, it lacked the warmth necessary to make the criticism friendly.

Toshiro noticed immediately. "It was that or risk Lieutenant Kira's life." He retorted briskly. His patience with the darker wore thinner and thinner every moment.

He was an enigma to Rukia, in a way that no other had been so mysterious. Even Byakuya, her own stone-faced cold brother, confused her less than Toshiro. Her brother stayed constantly placid, and that made it easy to predict him. Rukia expected him to react to life-changing news with an eerie calm.

But the white-haired captain was completely different. As much as he was serious, he didn't have the same indifference as Captain Kuchiki, and he didn't bother to hide anger or annoyance by cold eyes. He remained professional, and she knew he hated breaking the chain of command, but he still approached her about Rangiku's death. Even told her off for trying to shoulder the responsibility.

It had been jarring, the way he stared at her. His turquoise eyes were bright and glinting furiously. He was truly offended and angry at her for quietly accepting Hisagi's criticism. He demanded that she forget about her agreement to take the blame for Hisagi's sake. Even if she decided to ignore his order, she would never be able to say that to his face.

That in itself wasn't so mystifying, though. He had known Rangiku very well, and she knew she'd be irritated if a perfect stranger tried to hold the guilt of Ichigo's death.

What felt so strange was the fact that when he finally turned away from her, she felt… lighter.

Such an alien feeling! Drowning became a familiar, constant sort of feeling to her. Sometimes, she doubted she would ever reach the surface. But when she looked up, she swore that she could see some sort of light.

"Lieutenant Kuchiki." Came his voice, and she looked back up at him. His eyes were another oddity. While before they were so challenging, now they were dull, limpid pools of turquoise. It made her oddly uncomfortable.

But she swallowed that feeling and met his gaze unwaveringly. "Yes, sir?" She questioned.

He stared hard at her. She tried not to feel uncomfortable under his sight. "Pay attention." He growled wearily. With a flash, she realized they were speaking, and she, not attending. She ducked her head and nodded, trying hard to ignore Hisagi's gloating eyes.

The captain, on the other hand, did nothing to conceal his conceit. "Focus your energy, Lieutenant Hisagi." He snapped at him as well. It seemed the only one not spending his time being reamed was Kira. "We're in the world of the living, and we have to keep a close eye on the parasite. If it turns and latches onto a human…"

The sentence drifted off into milky silence. The preceding gloom was enough to show that they all understood. Allowing the parasite to slip free could not happen.

"It's still blind." Kira spoke up, only a little timid. "Are we just going to let it run wild when it wakes back up?"

"That is a very interesting question, Lieutenant Kira." Came a new voice. This one much deeper, carrying a relaxed tone that made the group extremely high-strung in comparison. "But I'll go out on a limb here and guess that that wouldn't be a wise strategic decision."

The men all whirled quickly, but Rukia turned with slow reluctance. She recognized that voice. Hell, it would be embarrassing if she _didn't _recognize that voice.

"Kisuke." She mumbled to herself. There he stood, loitering casually beneath the botched fluorescent rays of weak street-lights. The hat on his head and his wooden clogs, as well as the sword in his hand she once actually believed was only a cane. He still had that intense, vaguely disinterested look in his eyes. The look of a scientist. It always unsettled her. Maybe being his personal experiment at one point biased her, but she couldn't help it.

She tried not to think of the fact he reminded her so much of a life she spent hours trying to forget.

He leaned forward and tipped his hat politely. "I wasn't expecting to see so many Soul Reapers wandering our streets at this hour." Never mind how he even knew they were coming. His eyes wandered a bit to land on the single girl. "It's good to see you again, Rukia."

A chill raced up her spine and forced her skin to cool. It had been awhile since anyone referred to her by her first name in such a familiar context. Common sense told her that she should inform him she now held the position of lieutenant, but circumstance had her tongue tied.

He looked at her expectantly, but she could only nod. She was mute. Rukia hadn't returned to the world of the living ever since Ichigo died. The rush of familiarity threatened to throw her off her feet, and she focused to keep herself from wobbling.

If her silence bothered him, the former captain didn't show it. He turned to acknowledge the rest of the group, his eyes eventually settling on the writhing parasite in front of them.

Humming quietly, he ventured forth to place a light touch on the wriggling thing. It squirmed in protest, snaking away from the touch. It was still too blind to know where it was going, so once Kisuke's warmth disappeared, it stilled.

With a small, egregious smile, he blinked cold eyes up at the formation. "I think," he said, "you should probably all come back with me to the shop."

Rukia felt her heart qualm. There was no doubt in her mind that, if she returned, she'd be seeing many faces she hadn't in a long time. Yoroichi and Ururu, maybe even Karin or Kon would be there. She felt her mouth open to protest, but the captain beat her to it.

"We don't really have much time to chat, Kisuke." Toshiro's voice cut through her thoughts. "Our mission is rather dire."

Kisuke straightened, plucking up the parasite as he did. "Don't be so stubborn." He said, waving off Toshiro's iciness as if he were shooing a thought. The group could practically see Hitsugaya bristle. Only Ichigo dared confront him with such uncaring squalor. Kisuke contained some of the same qualities. "You all look tired. Besides, you cast a pretty strong spell on this hollow, Captain Hitsugaya. I'd say you do have some time to 'chat.'"

He looked towards them, and even though he was addressing the group, his eyes glinted while they focused on Rukia. "So, what do you say?"

* * *

><p>Memories are a funny thing, reader. They are never the same twice. With time and experience to separate one from his past, events that happened become augmented over time.<p>

More than that, what a person does or does not remember is even a larger mystery. How is it the brain can repress horrible, traumatic memories, but it does its best to recall the most worthless, and often awkward, ones?

Shadow contains all memories, reader. And shadow isn't very selective. It is light that must sort through the dreariness to expose what needs to be seen.

And light does its job as well as it can. It will fight and stream and focus in order to bring a forgotten necessity to life. But shadow doesn't always comply.

Remember, reader, when this story spoke of shadow's loneliness? Its lack of tethers to any source or pain? Well, shadow has one more companion besides the intrusion of light.

This companion is memory. When light leaves shadow alone, and it has time to revel in its isolation, it will sift through the memories left in it. Moment by moment, it lives through the forgotten past, revitalizing what withered in its left behind state.

Yet, unexpectedly, light will dash into the middle of shadow's realm and snatch memories from right underneath it. Random ones, activated by a trick of the eyes or a smell associated with a childhood memory. These senses push light into action, and the memories would suddenly return, without warning, and in a variety of snippets hard to decipher.

"…" Rukia blinked dazedly when a steaming cup invaded her sight, placed by a delicate hand onto the table in front of her. For a moment, she caught Ururu's eyes. Like her own, they were a deep violet that turned blue in the light, but cinder-black in the shadow. But she cast her head downwards, and the bangs covered the orbs.

Kisuke continued to wave his fan, watching with that bemused smirk of his as the weary group received their tea. They were all tired, and their uniforms boasted bloody cuts that were healed with kido. Even if they were on an important mission, none of them could resist the notion of a rest.

Hitsugaya had explained their whole situation as they followed Kisuke back to his shop. Although Rukia would be lying if she denied that she was wondering how the man knew where they were, she didn't bother to ask. Kisuke was nothing if not intuitive.

"I see." He remarked airily when the captain finished his explanation, breaking off long enough to sip the hot tea. The others mirrored his movements, reveling in the woody, earthen taste of the bracken brew. "I have to say, I'm surprised the old man gathered you four as the scouts, and expected you to not attack the hollow. You all have a pretty vested interest in this mission, huh?"

It was more of a statement than a question, but the implication lingered heavily over all of them. From the corner of her eyes, Rukia saw Hisagi's fingers tighten around his cup. His normally cold gaze took on a new light of fury. Even if he boasted loyalty beyond all else, Rukia knew first-hand how deep his hatred could linger.

Since none of the others answered, Hitsugaya cleared his throat. "I believe the Captain Commander chose us for that specific reason. The parasite has led us in circles, and anyone not personally connected with the case would have seen it as an excuse to return home."

A chill of surprise ran up Rukia's spine. Her eyes briefly met Izuru's, just as wide as hers. That thought never really occurred to her. Perhaps it was because she assumed finding the hollow would be… easier than it has been. Yet when it proved elusive, none of them had considered returning home empty-handed as an option. They would see this mission through to the end, even if it took much longer than expected.

Shaking away her own epiphany, Rukia returned to the conversation between the former and current captains. A thoughtful look hovered on Kisuke's face. "While it's true the hollow usually is around when the parasite attaches to a human, it doesn't actually _have_ to be. After all, it did its best to attack you four. What'll you do if the parasite leads you in circles here, too?"

His words had a rather pessimistic effect on the group. Despite their hoping, the possibility that the hollow just didn't want to be found always lingered in the backs of their minds. Hearing it out loud ended up being more crushing than when thought silently.

Kisuke realized the new-found solemnity that befell the group. Retracting quickly, he offered a small, if genuine, smile. "Not that you won't be able to find it. It's just a good idea to have a back up plan, ya know?"

Despite herself, Rukia found a small smile twitching at her lips. Kisuke never knew much about mediating situations. He remained blunt to a fault, when he wasn't being utterly secretive, and it led to some awkward conversations over the years.

The sensation proved too foreign and rusty for Rukia to complete properly. Instead of an amused smile, she only managed a weak grimace.

Luckily, no one looked closely enough to see her fail of displaying happy emotion. Kira took the opportunity to speak, setting his cup down rather loudly.

"Maybe then we'd have to just take it back to Soul Society. It's too dangerous to leave it wandering around without us at least close by." He said. The others nodded, although it made the somber feel even more depressed.

There was no question. If this plan didn't work, they might as well call the whole mission a failure.

A new determination rose up in Rukia's gut. No way she would allow that to happen. Judging from her comrade's straightening positions, they were having similar thoughts.

Kisuke smiled slightly, apparently satisfied at the determination overcoming the small group. "Well, I'd like to help you more, but I'm afraid I'm probably less acquainted with the hollow then you four are."

They didn't need any more encouragement. With the warm beverages gone and their muscles rested, each of them stood up. The captain resituated his haori, and Rukia's fingers danced lightly over Sode no Shirayuki's hilt. The sword sang at her waist, eager for a chance to dance.

"Let me know if there's anything else I can help with." Kisuke said, his tone oddly sad. Rukia flinched. Again and again the day reminded her that so many others suffered from the losses, too. The ex captain may not have lost a lover, but he lost an apprentice, as well as many friends.

As if reading his thoughts, he raised his hat to meet Rukia's eyes evenly. He stepped towards her, and to her surprise, took her hands in his own.

"It's good to see you again, Rukia." He said softly. "You know the girls ask about you often. I think they miss you coming around. Isshin and Kon, too."

His words caused a strange lump to form in her throat as she stared back at him. She has to focus on the warmth of his touch to keep herself from breaking down in sobs.

After Ichigo died, she blew off Soul Society for nearly two months to stay with the family. There was the funeral, in which she sat between the twins stonily, cradling them both while they sobbed. She let only the silent tears bleed down her face. She needed to be strong for them both.

When they made it back to the clinic, Isshin found her in Ichigo's room, sitting on his bed and hugging Kon in a show of empathetic emotion she didn't even know the mod soul possessed. But he did. He hugged her back, not even making an attempt to aim for her chest, and the silent comfort he gave her meant more to her than she could ever say.

She remembered the man sitting down beside her. When she looked at him, she saw he looked nearly ten times older. His face was gaunt and pale, and his hair no longer had the same shine. New wrinkles lined previously smooth skin. He took her hands, in a fashion similar to how Kisuke held them now.

'You know,' he had said – his voice so thin, it nearly broke her heart to hear it – 'he really loved you. More than anything in the world. More, I dare say, than he loved his old man.'

He meant the words as a joke, but they brought more tears to Rukia's eyes. She had clenched his hands even tighter, murmuring, 'You don't mean that. He loved you and Yuzu and Karin more than words.'

They sat in silence for minutes, just taking solidarity in the fact they shared the same type of wounds, before Isshin spoke again.

'I know you two made it official at the end, but even if you hadn't, you'd still be part of this family. You're like a third daughter to me and the other sister that Yuzu and Karin never had. We all know you have your responsibilities, but you should know that you're welcome here anytime. You understand? Anytime you want, and we'll be here for you.'

He had looked at her so earnestly, eyes so full of unsaid regrets and emotions they filled her to the brim, threatening to tear her apart. In a silent sob she had collapsed into his shoulder. She didn't know when Yuzu and Karin came in, but they all fell asleep like that – tangled together as a family wallowing in grief on the bed of the deceased brother, son, and friend.

When she left them, she did so with the total intent of returning. Like it or not, they were her family, no matter what her higher ups said. But then Renji died, and Orihime fell ill. Rukia stuck into stasis mode, and she couldn't go back to the Kurosaki family. She didn't want them to see her in such a way.

But with Kisuke staring back down at her, she swallowed the lump and nodded slowly. "I… miss them, too." She said softly. "If you see them, tell them I'll be back soon?"

The smile Kisuke gave her brightened the night, it nearly made her smile too. "Maybe you'll tell them yourself." He replied. He dropped her hands, but Rukia felt the remaining warmth tingle her skin.

Hitsugaya stepped up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "It's time to go." He spoke from behind her. "The spell's dissolving on the parasite. Thank you for all your help, Kisuke."

The blonde man nodded, smiling easily. "Keep a look out for Yoruichi, I think she's around. Good luck!" He called after them. They walked out the door, and Rukia turned around enough to wave back at him before they disappeared back into the night.

Kisuke was kind enough to lend them a cage for the parasite, so they wouldn't have to hold it by hand. Hisagi carried it now, sending the parasite a look of poison.

"It doesn't really look like it's waking up." He grumbled, to which Hitsugaya threw him a withering look.

"Of course not. We need time to set up before letting it go loose. We can't just let it go where it wants now, it might decide to target a person." The captain said. "Plus, we won't be able to control if it decides to go through a busy area to find the hollow."

They were playing it extremely close to the chest. Letting such a dangerous thing run wild in the Menos Forest was one thing – the only living beings for it to possess were the ones stalking it. Here in the world of the living… well… she shivered to think what exactly the extent of damage it could do.

"Lieutenant Kuchiki will be with me." Hitsugaya continued, disregarding the thoughtful silence the others exuded. "Hisagi and Kira, you will be shadowing us. The best way to keep an eye on this parasite is to split up so we can take it from all angles. It should also mask our presence."

That plan contained so many holes, it made Swiss cheese look solid. They all knew it, but Kira's the only one with enough grit to say it. "Er… Captain… is that the right thing to do?"

If Hisagi had said it, the captain probably would have snapped in reply. Kira kept his honest gaze, though, and his blatant concern rose on the corners of his eyes. Hitsugaya sighed, rubbing his hand through his stark white hair. In that moment, he looked so much older. Rukia blinked, sure she saw wrinkles and the faded colors of experience engraved in his features. Yet when he shifted, they disappeared. As if some sort of force was smoothing them out for him.

"Perhaps not, but there isn't really anything else." He focused his teal gaze on them. "Kisuke had a point. The Captain Commander sent us not just because of our skills, but because of the connection we have to this mission. Would any of you want to turn back now?"

The resulting silence was so strong, it nearly took Rukia's breath away. Up until now, she saw no connection with the others. Now there latched a bond – something deep and shared, too strong to put into words. Even Hisagi, the man who seemed to enjoy tormenting her, knew that they were all in this together until the end.

Hitsugaya read their response as well. "Okay, then let's get going. Set the parasite down, and let's get into position."

Hisagi did as he was told, unlatching the door to the cage and dumping the parasite unceremoniously onto the ground. They all took an instinctive step back. The thing radiated furious danger.

With barely a word, the Captain turned and sped away. Rukia darted, quick on his heels, deftly following his movements through the streets and alleys of the city. Every now and then, she would spot a normal human roaming the streets, head down and shoulders hunched. It gave her a jolt, and she had to fight to remember they couldn't see her. None of the living had any idea of the danger they were potentially in. The sheer gravity of knowing her actions could control their fate made her shiver.

Hitsugaya pulled to an abrupt stop before her. A good thing she trained under the flash step master Byakuya Kuchiki, because she managed to pivot on her heel and pull up next to him without losing step. He halted them on a tall building, one that gave them an extreme vantage point over the rest of the neighborhood. The bright city lights blotted out most of the stars, but when she looked up, she could spot a few of the brightest supernovas twinkling at her.

"We'll wait here." Hitsugaya murmured. To her surprise, he stepped to the edge of the building and sat down, feet dangling over the edge. It occurred to her that he must be tired. He held the position of highest ranking officer. If any casualties occurred, the responsibility rested with him. So, casually, she did the same.

Three buildings down and to the left, she could just catch sight of a river snaking by. This far, she couldn't hear the familiar rumbles, but the sight invoked trembling memories into her mind. She gulped, hardly able to tear her eyes away.

Ichigo hated the river. He always had, before she even met him. Because his mother died by its banks. Rukia always thought it a pity – that river glinted like liquid fire when the sun sank.

For Ichigo, those memories hurt too much to return. But whenever she returned to Karakura, she made a point to sit by its banks.

This irritated him to no end. Whenever they fought, which was often, she would storm off to the river. She would wait and wait until, finally, he would come to get her. Sometimes it took only twenty minutes, but once she waited there until the moon raised fat into the sky. She had been able to see the faint streaks of dawn before she heard his footsteps.

'Why the hell do you choose this place?' He growled at her. It was the first time he dared broach the subject. 'Of all the places you could go, you choose this. Running back to Byakuya would be less stupid.'

To him, eloquence established elusive. She did her best to remain calm, deciding to take humor in the fact that he would never refer to her brother in a respectful manner. 'Because if I ran off to Byakuya, that'd give you an excuse to fight someone.' She snorted. 'I come here because it's pretty, and you'll leave me alone.'

He growled at that. It wasn't the answer he was looking for. Good, because it wasn't the truth. She would never tell him why. He knew she went to the river. Therefore, he waited until his thoughts cooled down enough to approach her. He would never seek her out there if he stayed angry.

The memory choked her.

She forced herself to look away from the banks, staring resolutely ahead at the tops of familiar buildings. She knew this city so well, even better than some of the natives. Ichigo had dragged her up and down every alley in pursuit of hollows, arrancars, and who knows what else. Every corner held a tied up memory. Every building had a shadow that synced to her mind. It was organized torture.

Rukia didn't realize her emotions ran across her face, but the captain noticed her anguish somehow. "Lieutenant Kuchiki?" He said, and when she didn't immediately answer, "Kuchiki? Are you alright?"

"Huh?" She blinked, then snapped her mouth shut when she remembered it was rude to speak to a captain that way. "I mean, yes, I'm fine. Just a little worried."

Her admission was true, but the prodigy's expression told her he didn't quite believe her. It occurred to her she needed to put some emotion into her face before she lied. She acclimated to the unconcerned manner of subordinates and house-hold maids. They didn't care if her tone fell flat, as long as she didn't need anything.

While Hitsugaya wasn't her captain, he had the same probing gaze Ukitake took on when he watched her sometimes. In the past, he had always found a reason to ignore her issues. Now, as they waited on the rooftops, they both realized that the quiet night air remained, for now, undisturbed.

She took in a deep breath, ready to say something else, maybe a bolder lie, but he spoke first. "About what I said in the Menos Forest, I didn't mean to insult you by saying Matsumoto's death is none of your concern. I realize you both were somewhat friends."

That caught Rukia off guard. Of everything she expected him to say, that hit the bottom of her list. He must take her silence as key to continue, because he did. "What I meant is that her… condition isn't your fault. I'm sure you're worried about her, but there's no need to feel guilty."

"Then why do you?" Rukia blurted the words before she had time to even think about them. This time, it's his turn for his eyes to widen. He turned those bright teal orbs on her, judging her expression. A foreign blush crept to her pale cheeks and she glanced away, disguising the redness by scratching her cheek. "What I mean… is… um…" she stuttered, unsure of how to continue without being insulting.

Luckily for her, Hitsugaya allowed curiosity to trump offense. "Continue." He prompted, knowing that without it, she would remain silent.

After a moment, she did continue. "Well, I wasn't there during Ran- I mean, Lieutenant Matsumoto's accident, but everyone says it was an accident." She met his gaze briefly, then it darted away to look downwards. "But Hisagi and Kira and you all feel guilty about it."

He snorted, catching her gaze. "It wasn't just an accident." He said, rather icily. "Everyone around her knew she was having problems coping after the incident with Aizen."

Either Rukia had gotten used to being spoken to so coldly, or it just didn't bother her, but she barreled forward. "Of course, but it was her that got caught by the claws of that hollow. And even if she hesitated, no one could have known what the poison could have done to her."

She could practically see him bristle. That didn't surprise her. How one feels guilt has always been a sensitive and versatile subject. She knew, because it only angered her when other people tried to tell her she had no hand in Ichigo's or Renji's or anybody else's deaths. Maybe she hadn't killed them, but her own inability made her furious.

From the look in the captain's eyes, she could tell he felt the same.

"It is my responsibility as captain to be sure all by subordinates are fit to be in battle." He growled. The timbre in his voice momentarily reminded her of a furious dragon. "If she hadn't fought, she wouldn't be in a coma."

His voice dropped then, less of a growl and more to a condemned mutter. "Matsumoto shouldn't have to be on her way to death."

The words fell upon them both like a hammer. For a moment, she's speechless. What can she say to that? Her friends hadn't been like Rangiku – torn from betrayal and drifting away on indecision. They had shared so many more happy memories before Tatsuki had taken ill. The torment each of them felt tested as similar as they were different. The contradiction made her dizzy.

Despite the meanness of his tone that suggested an end to the conversation, some sort of beat in her stomach forced her to talk. Maybe it was the idea that he was suffering alone in his own guilt, not knowing that she could understand exactly how he felt. "Ichigo and Renji shouldn't have died, either."

His head snapped towards her so fast, it was a wonder it didn't break from his neck. Only years of discipline stuffed into her head allowed her to look up and meet his eyes. Unyielding. Staring. They bore into her soul, and she hated the feeling of them delving past all of her own carefully concocted walls. Suddenly uncomfortable, she bowed her head and looked away. "My apologies, Captain. That was out of line."

He shook his head before she could even finish her sentence. "No. I think I was out of line." He paused for a moment. "But then again, you were, too. So I won't apologize."

His tone was so abrupt, she couldn't help turning to glance at him again. The look on his face could only be described as incredulous. She had a feeling his words felt alien to him, just as to her.

Then she laughed – a short, hiccupping sound. It sounded so foreign, she stopped almost immediately, her hands flying to her throat. How long had it been since she last laughed? The thought pained her.

"Careful, Kuchiki." Captain Hitsugaya snorted, a strange glint of amusement in his teal gaze. "Laughing at a Captain isn't a smart career move."

She laughed again. She couldn't help it. The sound felt more natural than before – more of a soft and subdued chuckle than an unabridged, girlish giggle. Not that she expected it to be. She hadn't ever laughed like the refined girls – the streets of Rokungai taught her to be loud, if nothing else.

After her adoption, the Kuchiki nobles did their best to keep her quiet. She already marred their image. Yet, neither Ichigo nor Renji taught her to laugh again. That feat belonged to Orihime.

A sharp pang hit her in the back of her throat. The thought was as raw and novel as it was painful. _I miss her_.

Rukia missed her. She missed her so badly, her heart ached furiously for the gnawing void in her stomach to be filled. She missed her laugh, her smile, her bubbly sweetness, and her habit of adopting and loving people who never had a place to belong or someone to love them.

The thought bubbled, and the other friends she refused to think about emerged in her mind's eye. The ones she also missed. Chad and his stoic strength, Uryu with his wit and strange affinity for arts and crafts, and Renji. Her best friend Renji. Her best friend who she had known and cared for since the day they met on those dirty Rokungai streets. Even if they didn't see each other for awhile, she had thought of him often. She always cared for him.

Then there was Ichigo…

She had to stop herself right then, or she would burst into tears. Her laughter died in her throat, something she forced down or she would have risked it turning into a sob. Why now? She reproached herself silently. She could always keep these thoughts from her head, suppressing them with quiet vehemence. They always nipped back at her in the form of night terrors, but they kept from bothering her during the day. Now she could barely keep the surge of sadness from drowning her.

Rukia didn't mean to, reader, but the light which bent around her, activated. Summoned by the surge of familiarity brought on by the town, shadow melted away. Memories once forever repressed illuminated exposed, dancing under the desire to be noticed, dealt with, understood. A memory doesn't like to be forgotten, reader. Just as a heart doesn't like to be ignored. Desires, no matter how stifled, always find a way to be recognized.

Inside Rukia, there was a yawning darkness. A hole, scratched out by the loss of so many beloved ones in succession. More than just guilt clawed at her, vying for her attention. Anger, sadness, loneliness, and a childish bewilderment. No one should have to be left alone in such a way. The heart knows that, and it has spent so long starving for any type of love, of attention, that has been denied it. Now it cried out, wanting to be acknowledged.

Simply said, Rukia didn't want to be all alone anymore.

The knowledge hit her so hard and so fast she nearly buckled over. Never before had she found so many times to be thankful for her Kuchiki heritage. All the captain saw was her leaning forward slightly, head resting in her hands.

But the air around her changed.

Tangibly, the sodden black cloud that always surrounded her morphed into something else. Not light, nor happy. If anything, it was more coalesced in shadow than ever before. But it felt… softer.

To describe the feel of shadow can hardly be done. It is like trying to explain the concept of color to one who has never seen. But as much as shadow isn't evil, it has the power to be heavy. Crushingly so. People can die beneath the weight shadow bears, the weight given to it along with all the knowledge and memory it carries.

Take, for example, the shadow of night. Most of the time, it is rather freeing. But for most people, simply being in shadow lends a weight that light does not. Mostly because humans instinctively fear shadow, which lends it a force rivaling the fact which surrounds gravity.

Rukia never noticed the thickness that fogged around her skin. Why would she have to realize it, when she constantly dealt with the worming feel of guilt slipping in her stomach? The guilt was still there – that hadn't changed – but she felt the stark walls she built around herself crack. She may not have the strength to be whole, yet, but when she got back, she wanted to see Ukitake again. She wanted to thank her brother for taking care of her, and Kiyone and Sentaro, too. They always watched over her, ever since she joined the thirteenth squad.

Then, she would come back to see Ichigo's family again. By now, they were her family, too. The time had long passed for a reunion.

Toshiro called her name again. She glanced at him, spotting a strange worry in his gaze, one akin to most men who have no idea how to comfort a woman. She took a quiet pity on him, offering a slight smile. "I'm fine. Just thinking." She said, leaning back on her hands. "Remembering." She added, then blinked in surprise.

He cast her a blank look, one she tried to ignore. "I guess there is a lot to remembe." He said. "We always seem to end up back here."

She wasn't sure if he was invoking the royal 'we' or not, but he had a point, anyways. Events in her life, and many other soul reaper's lives, seemed to have at least a little connection with Karakura town. By now, most everyone at least knew about it.

Short silence lapsed between them. She considered checking her phone, but just as she reached to pull it out of her pocket, he spoke.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly. He sounded earnest, but the awkwardness of his tone kept her from interrupting. Instead, she just turned to face him, violet eyes curious.

He met her gaze, then glanced away. "About Orihime. We were never great friends, but she lent Matsumoto and I a place to stay, without really knowing us. She was a good person. I'm sorry she's gone."

Rukia studied his face, which he turned away from her to show his profile. His hands clenched, and she could only describe his expression as sheepish.

This time, her smile saddened. "Thanks." She replied, refusing the tears that threatened to swim in her gaze. Many people had told her they were sorry. Very few actually meant it. She forgot what it felt like to sit in comfortable understanding with someone else.

Any chance to say anything else was cut off. The captain's phone beeped loudly, and he leapt to his feet. She scrambled up behind him, light on her toes and blood pumping furiously. All the other times the parasite was set free, she felt a placid calm. The hairs on the back of her neck raised. Something else was here.

A few building tops away, they heard Kira yell, along with the hellish wail of a bitter beast.

* * *

><p>While Rukia and the captain spoke, reader, Kira and Hisagi were not just standing idly by.<p>

That is not to say they were very active. Hisagi intended to brood. Kira, sometimes a brooder himself, didn't mind. Only Hisagi's brooding took on the form of uncomfortable quiet.

Hisagi's silence didn't swim like normal silence. Instead, it sat thick and heavy and omnipresent everywhere they turned. A sweat broke out on the back of Kira's neck. A storm brewed above Hisagi's head, and it hurt to be around.

Finally, Kira could stand it no more. "Rangiku's condition wasn't Kuchiki's fault, and you know it." The words exploded from his mouth before he could stop them. Hisagi snapped his head back to stare at him, and he blushed a peculiar shade of crimson.

Good thing the dim light hid his flushed skin, and his voice hardly wavered as much as it used to. "I just mean that things haven't been easy on Kuchiki, and around you… she kind of looks like she's about to fall apart."

Hisagi growled, fury crackling in the trumped silence that surrounded him. For a moment, he looked ready to snap. In a flash, Kira remembered the sick, constant lust for blood his zanpakuto had. He never feared Hisagi, but he found himself taking a guilty step backwards.

Instantly, Hisagi's eyes widened, and Kira blinked apologetically. He never feared Hisagi, but the man had never been so unstable. A silent prayer threatened to escape his throat.

He hoped Matsumoto would wake up.

He must have seen the confusion in Kira's eyes, because Hisagi suddenly deflated. The fury that normally pooled around his feet as if he were sweating it out of his blood, dried. He glanced away, looking defeated and so small. Kira, always sensitive to other's moods, nearly wanted to cry with him.

"I know." Hisagi spoke, his voice bland. "She's gone through a lot, but still," he fisted his hands, teeth gritting as the anger began to return, "I can't stand that blank look on her face. It's like ice. She looks just like…"

He drifted off, and Kira gently put the words out there. "Just like her brother, right?"

The icy weight of implications rested heavily between them. Hisagi never had a problem with the elder Kuchiki, he never really knew him, but he knew the captain's infamous reputation. He married a woman off the streets, and when he greeted his adopted sister, he did it with a cold fury. But where Kuchiki's façade eventually faded to his normal demeanor, Rukia stood at the wake of these deaths with nothing but a stony face and a gnawing heart to show for it.

For whatever reason Kira couldn't grasp, Hisagi wanted her to fight back. To open her violet eyes wide and show the same fiery courage she had before. But he couldn't grasp that she hadn't the strength to fight. Not yet, at least.

Kira opened his mouth, ready to put his thoughts into words. Instead, a chilling bellow echoed down below from the alleys. In a flash, both men stood at the edge of the roof, staring over at where the parasite was.

_Was_.

"It's gone!" Hisagi hissed, just as both of their phones began to beep. Kira flipped his out, staring in shock as the red dot that represented the parasite disappeared. Vanished.

"Hisagi, look." Kira said, but Hisagi already saw. He jumped from the roofs to the cement below, a sparkling, reluctant fury growing in his eyes.

He muttered to himself. "It can't be gone. What happened to the tracker? It can't just be _gone!_"

Kira leapt down next to him, his wide blue eyes surveying the dank streets, adrenaline pumping into his veins. The primal part of him instinctively feared shadow, and he found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he had better night vision.

"Kira…" Hisagi said, causing the blonde to turn. He gaped into the shadows, slowly drawing his zanpakuto as a hulking shape growled from within them. He briefly thought of calling for the captain and Kuchiki, but before he could, the hollow barreled into him. It moved so fast, he could hardly see it. It raised its claws, and all Kira could think about was that those claws put Rangiku in her coma.

"Kira!" Hisagi howled, and he snapped from his delusion. Muscles screamed into fight or flight mode, and he pushed himself aside so roughly, he practically lost his balance when he skid. The split moment of hesitance provided everything the hollow needed. It side-swept Kira with its tail, sending him flying into a concrete wall. His head slammed backwards, and he felt something break in his chest. Reflexively, he let out a painful scream.

The hollow bellowed in return, lumbering backwards to leer with inhuman eyes. In its gaze, Kira saw the sheer level of dumb instinct that drove the beast. This creature had no idea of the pain it caused. It only knew the hunt, and yet it managed to play them.

The parasite didn't lead the Soul Reapers to the hollow. Instead, the hollow was led to them.

It stepped forward, but the blade, knocked from Kira's hands, threw too far away to reach. His vision darkened, and his head continued to throb. He hadn't lost any blood, but the blow rendered him nearly unconscious. For the moment, he couldn't move.

Hisagi flashed in front of Kira, zanpakuto raised threateningly. "You're not going to touch him again, you dumb fuck." He snarled, voice venomous. The hollow snarled in reply, lowering its bear-like body to the ground in preparation to leap.

Shuhei never gave him the chance.

"Reap." He hissed at his blade, and Kazeshini willfully complied. Two scythe blades replaced the singular sword. Without giving the hollow a chance to figure out what happened, he swung the blades.

The first missed. The other cut deftly upon the hollow's front legs. It let out a scream of agony, backing up with an agility a beast of that size shouldn't possess.

Hisagi professed in speed as well. He leapt forward, swinging the chains again and again. His eyes had gone dark. He lost himself in the intent to murder. Swing. Swing. Swing. The movement remained completely erratic. He snarled with pleasure every time the blades hit flesh, coaxing midnight blood onto the pavement.

Realizing quickly that it was doomed if it stayed on the defensive, the hollow let out a slippery snarl and leapt upwards. Long claws latched into the cement, climbing un-climbable buildings like they were trees.

Hisagi sneered, Kira's condition temporarily forgotten. He leapt after it, forcing them both out of the shadowed alleys and onto the dimly lit rooftops.

To the east, the sun began to rise. The dim light made colors impossible to discern.

That ended up being Hisagi's downfall. He jumped over the ledge, whipping around wildly. The hollow disappeared, but the tingling sensation of unctuous reiatsu confirmed that it was still there…

… Behind him.

He whirled when he heard the snarl, but not quickly enough. By the time he managed to propel himself backwards, the beast practically loomed over him. Its mouth grinned open, revealing acid drool which dripped down its teeth. This close, Hisagi could see the ghostly outlines of the parasite squirming all over its skin. If he survived this, he knew that sight would never leave his dreams.

The hollow lunged, but Hisagi hadn't made it to lieutenant with no skill. He murmured a spell into his palms, releasing an explosive, if clumsy, blow into the hollow's face. It screeched, reeling backward.

Hisagi jumped to his feet, blades raised. This was the end. Screw whatever the Captain Commander had to say. Revenge dangled at his fingertips.

Then the parasites unattached from the hollow. Hisagi could hear it as well as see it. A sickening _plop_ sound that practically made him gag. More than one was being released. All of them squirmed free, writhing and struggling as they hit the ground for the first time. One after another, until an indiscernible hoard slithered at the hollow's feet.

The lag lasted for moments. Then they lunged.

The dark summoned all the skills he ever knew, taking a stance as he started lunging and swiping. The parasites crept forward and forward. No matter how many he cut away, they continued closer.

One latched onto his ankle, another to his wrist. Hisagi nearly gave away to panic. Only the heavy years of discipline kept him fighting. They surrounded him, writhing closer, ghostly forms ready to take hold.

He hissed.

Icy wind slipped past his cheeks, before the parasites were sent reeling by a blast of ice and snow, melded together in an arctic sweep. The hollow distantly screeched. Hisagi couldn't really hear. While the hoard disappeared into the chill, another still latched to his stomach. It was worming its way into his body, and Hisagi could only stare in terror.

Then a hand reached out, small and pale, glowing blue with the readied murmurs of an incantation spell in place. The fingers gripped the shape, and the blast of the spell sent Hisagi reeling backwards. He stuck his hand out behind him, catching himself on the concrete before he could truly fall.

Outlined by the sunrise stood Rukia. Her eyes were just as wide as his, while the parasite in her fingers drooped, then dissipated.

He wanted to scream, but he couldn't. He wanted to blame her, as he always did, but he was left in pure shock. The glaze in her eyes told him she felt the same state.

Behind them both, the Captain supported Kira while they stepped towards them. Rukia offered Hisagi a hand, which he accepted casually. The ice and snow wielder's intervention had been brief. While Rukia turned to save Hisagi, Hitsugaya dealt with the parasites.

In the confusion, the hollow escaped.

Hisagi wanted to scream frustration. Instead, he gripped his zanpakuto so tight his palms nearly bled. Kazeshini slipped back into his sealed state, and Hisagi sheathed him.

"Are you alright, Lieutenant Kira?" Rukia breathed, eyeing both him and Hitsugaya. The shorter captain looked unmarked, although the darkness in his gaze suggested otherwise.

Kira nodded, although he held his ribs in pain. He would have to seek medical attention. None of them had the strength to spare to heal him.

The unasked question sat thick with tension. The sun continued to rise, and Rukia finally said, "What do we do now?"

They stared at each other. They were a ragtag group, and everyone knew it. None of them should have been thrown together like this, but now they had, and leaving the mission unfinished pained them more than broken bones.

Finally, Toshiro who broke the silence. With Kira balancing on his own, he turned to face the sun. His hand fished into his pocket, pulling out the phone to alert Soul Society. "We go back."

Hisagi snarled, Kira winced, and Rukia's face took on the same blank look that drove the darker lieutenant crazy. It was pointless now, though, because they were never going to get their revenge.

No parasite, no hollow, and left in the cruel hope of the rising sun, the Soul Reapers faced the only option they had left.

They were going home.

* * *

><p>Wow! What a way to end a story, right?<p>

…

Kidding. That would be a horrible ending. The fact is, this story still has a few twists and turns to get out of the way, so hold onto your roosters!

Next chapter should be out before the end of September, so in two or three weeks. Assuming it doesn't torture me again with its blocking of my writing.

Until next time!


	8. Everyday's the Same Except for Tomorrow

Whoot! Sorry this chapter's a bit delayed. I thought I could take it on as well as midterms, but my teachers sure proved me wrong.

There might be a lag before the next chapter. Got some things to do.

Enjoy!

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><p>"<em>Yet there are moments when the walls of the mind grow thin;<em>

_When nothing is unabsorbed, and I could fancy that we might_

_Blow so vast a bubble that the sun might rise and set in it_

_And we might take the blue of the midday and the black of midnight_

_And be cast off and escape from here and now." _

_Virginia Woolf, The Waves_

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><p>Byakuya welcomed her home.<p>

Not with banners or anything that ostentatious. If he did do that, she would immediately have him checked into Unohana's care. But he stayed home until she got there. When she stepped through the door, two maids immediately intercepted her.

"Master Kuchiki wants to see you in the family dining room." They said. It always perturbed her how the servants never referred to him as Captain, but as master. Similarly, they only called her miss.

She hurt for a warm bath and a meal, but loyalty won personal desires.

The morning had been spent reporting and explaining and writing down those reports and explanations. Her and everyone else expected the Captain Commander to ream them. Captain Hitsugaya in particular looked rather jaded. He should, since being the highest ranking officer allowed all failures to drop on his shoulders.

She didn't get to stay in his presence for long. After recapping the story, Yamamoto stroked his long beard and sent them all beady glares.

"It's a good thing nobody was hurt, right?" The words sounded more like a reproachful threat than relief.

Silence. The Captain Commander sighed, rubbing the top of his cane. "You're all dismissed." He growled. "Except for Captain Hitsugaya."

Rukia risked a quick glance at Toshiro, allowing only her eyes to move. His expression remained devoid of much emotion at all. Instead, he looked resigned. Resigned, and more than a little exhausted. He stood at attention, while the rest of the lieutenants filed out of the door.

He didn't both to look over at any of them as they left. He stood forward, straight faced, until the moment she left.

Instead of heading over to the Thirteenth Squad to do the inevitable paperwork and reports, she went home. She had no energy to deal with Ukitake's understanding and Kiyone and Sentaro bickering. She felt bone-weary tired.

But she couldn't temporarily put off Byakuya. He waited for her, so she did her best to smooth her robes, ignoring the way the cuts and slices in the blackness screamed her defeat.

They lost. They were beaten by a simple-minded hollow, and Rukia couldn't deny the fact she threw away any chance of revenge to save Shūhei Hisagi's life.

He didn't thank her. He treated her with the same stony silence all the way back to Soul Society. When they finally were released to fulfill their own duties, he didn't spare her a second look, and the strangest part was that she didn't even feel any regret. It tore her apart that the hollow still roamed – posing a threat of death that no other enemy currently could. But she knew if she had to do it again, she'd save Hisagi, because as much as it hurt, her friends were dead. Hisagi's alive.

The door slid open in front of her, and she paused to offer a respectful bow before entering.

Her brother hardly looked up, let alone acknowledge her. His eyes were closed, his fingers wrapped around a steaming cup of tea. Despite the promising heat of a warming morning, the sight sent glares of longing through her veins.

A cup rested empty on the spot across from him. She sat down gingerly, trying not to show the favoring of her left side. She hadn't been too banged up, but the more she walked, the more she realized how sore she was.

Byakuya opened his eyes when she sat. His stony gaze used to inspire cold fear in her. She remembered seeing them for the first time – unyielding in their hardness. She remembered thinking, _this man knows pain, and now he's my brother._

Her brother. What a strange concept.

Yet even though he disregarded her, treated her as if she didn't exist, she respected him. She could see he was no stranger her hardships, and she took kinship in that. It took years for her to realize he cared for her as well. Not just as his wife's sister and an accepted burden, but as a person. But even before then, she strove to grasp the concept of the frozen mask. She longed to be able to sit in silence, true silence, and revel in its noise.

When she sat, she remembered thinking so highly of him. She never stopped respecting him, but when she gained friends like Ichigo and Orihime and Tatsuki – all people who also understood pain, but could still show emotion – she abandoned the practiced ice which surrounded her. She gave it up, because she always knew her fiery determination, stemmed from Rokungai streets, couldn't be masked so easily.

What she hadn't expected was the easiness with which the coldness returned after they died. When suddenly left alone, she remembered the practiced chill Byakuya exuded – so practiced that, by now, it came naturally. She carefully crafted the same image, but she always had a feeling she did it wrong. Sometimes she caught her reflection unawares. The blank face which stared back always made her balk.

Yet even if she couldn't mirror her brother's coldness, she always found comfort in it. He rarely directed his coldness at her, which made her fear it less, but she counted another reason more. Because no matter what happened around her – the deaths, the losses, the despair – he remained the same. Steadfast. Strong. The power from that drowned out what should be disappointment at his lack of emotion.

You remember true silence, right, reader? It rarely ever finds a companion able to stand it for long. The way it screams scares off the toughest of men. So who can meet its force head on?

The truth is, only those who have crossed onto the brink of death only to breathe again, can. Many people experience pain. Many of those many have felt enough of that pain to long for death. Some are confronted with this possibility. But a very select few can refuse this life-saving death when it knocks.

These few remain amongst not just the strong, but the resilient, too. These are the ones who know and understand true silence, and when silence finds a friend, it refuses to let go.

That's why the room she's in hummed with a suppression of noise which stood out because it _should_ have been there. Instead, each step she took was muffled, down to the nonexistent rasp of her breath.

"Rukia." Byakuya spoke, the break in silence earth-shattering. He met her gaze evenly, and she couldn't stop the foul taste of bile rising in her throat. Something was off. She could feel it. "There is something we have to discuss."

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><p>The Captain Commander has always been intimidating. If not for his rank, than for the sheer status of experience he wore around his shoulders, as clear as the white haori which draped over his arms. He erected the entire Soul Reaper Academy. Before death could even claim him, he inspired legends.<p>

Yet, despite his greatness, Captain Hitsugaya had never felt so small in his presence. Events kept playing over and over in his head. No matter how many times he blinked, every time brought the image of the hollow to his mind. The ocean of parasites, turning a ghostly shade of pale gold when the light of the sun hit them.

He opened his eyes wider, fearful to close them for too long.

"Captain Hitsugaya." He spoke in his commanding, harsh tone. "The actions you and your group took directly violated my orders. Explain yourself."

Good old Captain Commander. He always cut straight to the point. Hitsugaya swallowed dryly. In every scenario he imagined, he always thought he would at least be able to bring the parasite back. Call him a strange sort of optimist, but he wouldn't have thought they'd lose both it and the hollow.

But he couldn't deny that all the responsibility rested on his shoulders. If at any point he demanded they call the mission off and return home, they would have done it. Maybe with some animosity and argument, but they would have. He could make sure of that.

So he explained to the commander, as truthfully as he could, all of what happened. The circles in Hueco Mundo, the decision to return to the world of the living, and the battle. When he finished, he cast his turquoise eyes low and fell silent, waiting judgment.

While Rukia's execution order was a step out of the ordinary and tilted by Aizen's complete control, it still affected many of the Shinigami working. If for the crime of transferring powers one could receive the death sentence, the fear of punishment was always somewhat prevalent. Especially with the Commander, who valued obedience to the law above everything else.

Suffice to say, Toshiro expected worse than he expected better. He waited for the tongue lashing, but when none came, he risked a glance upwards.

The Captain Commander stared at him, piercing eyes fixed while he rubbed his cane with knobbed fingers. No one could deny his strength, but many of his features still belied his stretched age. Toshiro had once even heard Sasakibe talking of Yamamoto's arthritis. The idea was almost laughable, but the commander, understandably, didn't think so.

He shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth, ready to prompt the elder, but Yamamoto cut him off with a raise of his hand.

"I'm no fool, Captain Hitsugaya." He said gravely. Before Toshiro could protest that he never viewed him as one, he continued. "I know you're not one, either. You must have known that I sent the four of you _because_ of your connections to the hollow, not _in spite_ of them. You four knew first hand just how dangerous it can be. Despite the deaths it's caused, many subordinates take for granted its threat."

That, Hitsugaya understood. He saw it in the faces of those in his squad. They never pitied him to his face, but he knew those looks. The hollow was nothing more than that – a hollow. It didn't have the intelligence of an Espada, nor the grace or sheer spiritual strength.

Instead, all it had was instinct and a strangely destructive power. And the fact Rangiku's condition had been caused by horrid luck rather than facing a worthy opponent made it all the more painful.

Despite his rushing thoughts, the commander pressed forward without pause. "As it was, my instructions were more to be taken as a guideline instead of orders," Hitsugaya held back from snorting, remembering very clearly the strictness in his tone, "meant to inspire caution. Because of this, you will not be severely punished."

Hitsugaya did his best not to gawp. When the others were dismissed save for him, he assumed the very worst, and then he doubled that. Yet when he looked closer, he could almost see a gleam of amusement in Yamamoto's eyes.

Something strange occurred then. Hitsugaya felt himself struck with the urge to laugh. Similar to Rukia when they were sitting on the roof together, the chuckle rose to his tongue, and he had to bite down hard not to. Hitsugaya rarely laughed. He wasn't about to raise questions of his sanity by starting in front of the commander.

Not that he would give him the chance. Before Toshiro could gasp or protest or wonder, he continued: "However, you will be put on special alert, along with the rest of your team. When the hollow appears, it will be your duty to see it destroyed this time. Failure can't be an option this time."

He spoke so firmly, Toshiro found himself nodding along. The rules were set. No second chances would be given next time. He bowed his head, expecting to be dismissed.

Instead, Yamamoto continued to stare with beady eyes. "Captain Hitsugaya, Captain Unohana asked me to pass on a message for you."

Said captain blinked, straightening to reveal surprised cerulean eyes. "Yes?" He prompted. A strange sort of curiosity began to brew in his stomach. The sort one would feel when confronted with unknown situations. The same he had when a subordinate – one with a name he couldn't recall – told him Lieutenant Matsumoto had been in an accident. He wished the ground would open and swallow him.

"She said that one particular Lieutenant Hinamori woke from her coma."

Toshiro couldn't contain his gasp. The sharp inhalation caused his stomach to lurch and his heart to downturn. That should be good news. Why did the air feel so grave?

The Captain Commander sensed his trepidation. His frown told Hitsugaya his instincts weren't wrong. "I think it'd be best for you to go there yourself. She's waiting for you."

Hitsugaya wasn't used to being dismissed in such a polite way, but he accepted it. Anxiety boiled in his blood. How long had he known Momo? She was one of his earliest memories. By now, he knew her as intuitively as a parent might know her child. Which was why he found himself near to tears.

His conversation with the captain ended. He bowed again, then turned on his heel and flashed out of the room. Forget politeness, and forget protocol. He moved with the undeterred tunnel vision of a racehorse. The world flew by him in a blur, and the whole way all he could think about was how dry the taste of fear was.

* * *

><p>Although he actually built up enough energy to return to his squad, Captain Muguruma was gone, along with the irritating co-lieutenant. Just as well, it gave Hisagi an excuse to immediately turn around and leave.<p>

Not that he would have minded the paperwork, but without anyone there to focus him, his mind went running miles away. His world, already tilted, had been thrust ruthlessly into disarray.

The morning proved much more blue and bright than he thought it had any right to be. Birds sang, and when he pass a small food shop, he saw too young reapers in uniform holding hands, staring blithely into each other's eyes.

The sight caused him to turn tail immediately and flee.

He loved Rangiku. He always had, ever since he had met her. Not just for her beauty – he had met plenty of girls with svelte figures – but for everything else she brought with her. She understood him, and even if her friendship often with hand in hand with sake, he had always been able to count on her.

And even if she would deny it, he understood her, too. He knew he could offer her all the friendship in the world, but her heart really did belong to that silver-haired fox he never trusted. Even if Hisagi never really knew why, he knew enough to respect her and her boundaries.

So when Gin died, Hisagi ached with her. When she showed up wordlessly at his door, holding a large bottle of alcohol, he welcomed her inside. He allowed her to drown her misery, because he wanted to be selfish enough to hold her when she pulled him down to his bed. He yearned for the bliss of that drunken haze when he could wrap his arms around her and inhale the scent of her hair.

But what he longed for most was for her to stay with him for the evening. They never had sex, neither of them really wanted to. But he always imagined waking up with her beside him. Yet no matter how wasted she got the night before, she always managed to leave before he could stop her.

What he didn't know, nobody else knew, either. Even her captain, the man with which she arguably spent most of her time, couldn't put a name to her condition. Hisagi saw it, though. Even if he denied it to himself, he noticed the bags beneath her eyes and the ash pallor of her skin. The Rangiku he knew always kept herself beautiful and tight, if only so she could excuse herself to the spa for a few hours.

Then, one night, she came over without a bottle. _"I just wanted to talk,"_ she told him. Could he make time? Of course. For her, he would do anything.

She told him she hadn't felt right ever since the battle with Aizen. Not depressed, she assured him, but not right. She didn't have to tell Hisagi that. He knew.

For minutes, they stayed silent. She finally reached forward a hand, and Hisagi tentatively took it. He didn't like that look in her eyes. When he looked too closely, he could see… well… nothing. He could see nothing. She practically reflected with the emptiness inside her.

I think I might need help, she told him. Tears began to drip down her face, and Hisagi leaned forward to brush them away.

How they ended up lip-locked, he still couldn't say. But when he woke up alone, he found those tears had become his own. There was no happiness, no satisfaction, none of the love he hoped to one day feel. Instead he felt as if some of his own coping had been sucked away. The air in his room felt dead.

The next day, she couldn't meet his eyes. He tried to stop her, to explain it wasn't her fault, but she hardly let him. By the time he got a chance to see her alone, a subordinate passed by to tell her a problem had arisen. It seemed like no big deal, but she wanted to get away from him. He knew it. She went away on that mission.

And then she never came back.

Hisagi stopped at the base of a cherry tree, resting his head against the trunk. The sweet smell of blossoms proliferated under his nose. He couldn't be sure why his feet led him this way, but when he looked around, he could see the standing gravestones.

He wondered what he would do if Rangiku died. Would he have the courage to come to her funeral? To speak words in her honor? He would be a coward if he didn't. But maybe that's exactly what he was.

Just past the peak of a hill sat a grave decorated in wreaths of flowers. They were recent, woven together delicately with blossoms of all kinds. He ventured forth, curiosity gripping him.

_Orihime Inoue_. He gulped, imagining that he could still see the tears dotting the ground from where mourners stood. From the corner of his eyes, he swear he saw a petite figure clad in black move. But when he wrenched his head to the side, he saw nothing.

He moved onto the other graves. Ichigo's body hadn't been buried here. His family wanted it to be buried next to his mother's, and the Kuchikis had agreed.

But many of the others had stayed. Chad and Uryu were buried here. And Renji. Of course, Renji. Loud, brash Renji with such a severe beat-my-captain complex stemming from his feelings for Rukia, everyone expected him to be rather annoying when he joined the squad. Not to say that he wasn't annoying from time to time, but they had become friends almost immediately.

With some guilt, Hisagi realized he hadn't thought about him in a long time. Other grief had piled over that one, and while they were never the closest friends, they knew each other well.

So, under the glare of the afternoon sun, Hisagi did what he's never done before. He sat down cross legged, setting his zanpakuto aside. "It's been awhile, Abarai," he sighed. He placed fingers in his dark hair, trying not to feel ridiculous, and then began his story.

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><p>Hisagi's story, reader, is not something this story has failed to say. Therefore, this story will leave the lieutenant to recant his tale to his long-dead friend. It will return to a setting with which you should be familiar with by now. That is, the infirmary.<p>

Toshiro arrived there in nearly record time. A few confused, knocked over civilians left in the background would have attested to this. He made a beeline for Momo's room, but before he could smash the door open, someone grabbed his arm.

The pressure wasn't forceful, but that would be for the best. The gentleness kept Hitsugaya from immediately turning and lashing out angrily. Instead, he did his best to pull from the hand, but it didn't yield. When he finally glanced up, he saw the worried blue eyes of Kira.

He froze, and Kira smiled uncertainly. He let go, either sure he had the captain's attention, or he recognized that furious cerulean glint. Before Hitsugaya could turn away, though, he said, "Unohana told me to wait for you. There's something you have to know."

The Captain grit his teeth furiously. "What, Lieutenant Kira?" he practically spat out. He wanted to keep his demeanor calm, but ever since his first bout with anger against Rukia, he found himself unable to keep his temper as well as before. Instead, he had to struggle with himself not to explode.

Therefore, something has to be said for Izuru's bravery when he met the shorter captain's eyes. Instead of defiance, Hitsugaya detected something deeply, profoundly sad. He paused, that same feeling of anxiety gripping his stomach.

"I was told to come here right after I got out of the meeting, too," he said quietly. "But Momo didn't come out the same as us."

Toshiro paused. Kira looked at him intently, seeking him to understand the meaning he had hidden there. In a moment, he felt struck with a type of respect for the lieutenant he'd never acknowledged before.

Unlike himself and Kira and mostly everyone else, Momo didn't wake up after being injured in the war. While Hitsugaya spent days beating himself up about this, eventually both Rangiku and Unohana forced him away from the infirmary.

He trained hard, to get stronger, to beat everyone in his path. He would protect Hinamori this time, no matter what the cost. He wouldn't be the one to endanger her life _again_.

But Momo never woke up.

Unohana stated that it would be normal. Coma patients were sometimes likely to drop back into comas, when similar injuries were had. But she woke up the first time, so she would wake up the second time, too. She promised it.

Hitsugaya laid a lot of trust onto that promise. He looked up at Unohana's gentle gaze and believed what she told him. He had to. With Rangiku slipping and his own ineptitude eating at his will, he had no choice.

So when Kira muttered quietly to him in those stark white walls, all he could think about was how Unohana didn't actually break her promise. She said she'd wake up.

She never said she'd wake up the same.

Toshiro felt like vomiting. He leaned against the wall, attempting casualty, but failing. Kira followed his movements, the same sick look in his eyes.

After minutes, Hitsugaya finally found his voice. "Did you… did you see her?"

Kira nodded slowly, his visible blue eye closing. He didn't say anything else. He didn't have to. The captain knew exactly what he meant, and it made him feel worse.

The door behind them opened. Toshiro looked up, feeling too unstable to move much. Unohana stepped over to face him. Her frown reached her eyes, and Toshiro's heart fell. So this wasn't just a sick joke.

"She would like to see you, Captain Hitsugaya," Retsu said softly. "But you have to be careful when you do."

He shook his head, forcing his voice not to catch in his throat. "And she really doesn't remember anything?"

Unohana nodded slowly, wringing her hands in front of her. After so much sorrow, she had been ready to see a decline of patients. But recently, her halls felt less a place of healing, and more a place of death. "Nothing since the last time she awoke. Don't speak to her about Aizen. She still thinks he's innocent."

The breath caught in Hitsugaya's throat. He caught a glimpse of Kira wincing, pain lacing in his gaze. They both remembered seeing her for the first time after she came out of her coma. It took months to make her realize Aizen betrayed them of his own accord. Having to go through that again…

Unohana stared at him expectantly. He let out a breath. There would be a time to break the news to Momo, but not today. Not after she just barely woke up. The childish hope she'd be happy to see him seized his stomach. He had been afraid for when she'd wake. How would he explain to her that he stabbed her?

Then again, he supposed he wouldn't have to, for awhile. He nodded slowly at Unohana, showing his compliance. She smiled gently, stepping aside. "Go on, Captain," she told him softly, "she's been asking for you."

He nodded again, glancing behind him for the last time. Kira offered him a wavering smile with all the encouragement he could muster. There wasn't much, but it would have to be enough.

The door handle burned his skin, but he pushed it open anyways. Doubts already clamored his mind. Last time, she insisted on Aizen's innocence. How would he explain to her that, beyond proving Aizen had been evil, he had also been defeated, and was now sealed away? If she asked, how could he justify Rangiku's or Renji's or anyone's disappearance?

With a deep breath of courage he didn't feel, he pushed the door open. The noiseless entrance seemed anticlimactic. The room looked the same as all the rest. White walls, white floors, sterile and non-personal. Created to provide easy cleaning and access, not comfort.

But when he saw her, he stopped. She looked the same. Her dark hair pulled into a bun, with warm, chocolate eyes staring out the window. He always revered those eyes. Dreaming and doe-like. Constantly caught up in a world of kindness that didn't really exist. It made her naïve, but it also made her his best friend.

He must have been louder than he thought, because when he stepped inside, she turned her head to see him. He froze, watching as her features changed from confusion and surprise to pure delight. "Shiro!" she almost screamed, tears of joy gathering in her eyes. "Oh, I was hoping you'd come! I know I shouldn't have attacked you. Shiro, could you forgive me?"

She cried openly now, and Hitsugaya had to summon the memories to realize she talked about Aizen's trickery – how he framed Toshiro for his death in order to get him to kill Momo. Even with Aizen gone, his actions left bleeding wounds everywhere.

And in his aftermath, Toshiro suddenly realized he still had enough heart left for it to break.

* * *

><p>"So Momo's awake, huh?" Hisagi muttered, passing Kira the bottle of sake.<p>

Drinking when they were supposed to be working normally was a past time that Hisagi and Rangiku endeavored on. Kira remained too responsible normally. Plus, Rose proved to need more sense irked into him than Gin. Where Gin did whatever he wanted, no matter what anyone said, Rose would rather ditch his responsibilities to play guitar. After he became captain, Kira and Nanao found a whole new level of bonding which never existed before.

Today, though, was a special case. When Hisagi offered, Kira accepted. He swigged it quickly, although he shook away the buzz coming to his brain.

"Yeah," he finally muttered in return, sighing as the warm liquid soothed his throat. "When I left, Captain Hitsugaya was going to see her."

Hisagi shook his head, sadness in his eyes. He and Momo didn't possess the same bond Kira did with her. Primarily because Hisagi was already on his way to graduation by the time either of them entered as students. However, of all the fates he hoped for her, this one definitely didn't reach his list.

"What did Unohana say?" he asked, accepting the bottle when Kira gave it back. "Is it just temporary?"

Kira shrugged, his blue eyes glittering with hopelessness. Everything seemed to be falling apart. How much more would they have to suffer before life could return to normal? "She doesn't really know. Captain Kurotsuchi's investigating her, but it's a delicate situation. On one hand, she may recover on her own. But if she doesn't… well… she has to find out sometime and-"

"-and that could either make her or break her," Hisagi finished dully, staring out at the long green fields. The relief he felt at spilling his story to Renji had been surprising. More surprising was finding Kira waiting for him at the graveyard's gates. Kira shrugged, saying that was where he wanted to go, too.

They returned to the top of a hill, with Kira brandishing a bottle of liquor for them both. He didn't usually drink unprompted. Hisagi knew he should get back, but he couldn't say no.

Kira broke his thoughts with a sigh. He leaned back on his hands to gaze up at the mockingly bright sun. "When do you think we can all start to move on?"

The darker considered that, polishing off the rest of the sake and closing his eyes. He thought of the time when Ichigo and his friends broke into Seretei, and were branded dangerous ryoka. He thought of the betrayal of Aizen, the war, and the amount of blood everyone, even the Espada, dared to shed.

He remembered waking up on the day after that defeat. In his mind, he really believed everything would be better.

Then he thought of Rukia and her sadness. He thought about Momo, and the pain Hitsugaya must be facing in the memory loss of his longest friend.

He thought of Rangiku, collapsed in a bed with a life she didn't really want teetering in the balance. He wondered if she would wake up. Maybe she would, if she could see how much everyone missed her.

Then, for the first time in awhile, he thought of Tosen. The captain who taught him so much, who was taken advantage of by Aizen, and blinded through his blindness. He shook his head, and the only answer he could offer his friend was the only one he felt he ever had: "I don't know."

There they sat, until the sun began to sink and the sky lit with the color of flames.

* * *

><p>Light, reader, isn't as complacent about its loss of dominion as you might think. After going over this routine for decades, it would be easy to assume light would get used to leaving half the world behind to go and brighten the rest.<p>

That is wrong, reader. Shadow is very much okay with this cycle. Stagnation makes shadow lonely, so it adores the constant movement. Light is not. By nature, light likes to be seen. However, light has always been and will always be tethered to a source. Where the sun goes, light must follow. And while it may be able to remain slightly with the glare of the moon, the amount of color it is allowed to illuminate pales in comparison to the vibrancy of day.

Therefore, everyday, whenever the sun goes down, light leaves its last imprint by calling to it all the colors it can manage. Sometimes, only green and yellow come to the beckon. Other times, light's summoning brings every shade of inferno to have existed.

Just the same, whenever the sun comes back up, and light returns, it celebrates the same way. The difference is the colors it calls are usually darker, just to honor the camaraderie of shadow.

Tonight, there are no clouds to catch light's rays, and the only color to heed light's calls is a pale green which resides between the horizon and the previous blue of the day. It is beautiful in its own way, boasting soft, soothing colors. Rukia, however, didn't want to see them.

Instead, she lied on her bed, staring unseeing at the ceiling. Words played over and over in her head, too loud for her to take. She closed her eyes, trying to shut them out, but they continued to yell.

She didn't blame her brother. She couldn't. Not even if she wanted to. Her respect for him ran far too deep for that, and even if it didn't, she knew he hated the decision just as much as she, if not more. She could see it in his eyes. He took upon a duty to protect her, and in his mind, he failed.

The scene played again and again, like one of those movies Ichigo used to show her in the world of the living. Once, one of them began to skip, and it played a conversation repeatedly, until Yuzu took it out and cleaned it off.

Unable to stop herself, she turned her face to her pillow and let out a muffled scream. She couldn't blame her brother. But that didn't mean she couldn't be angry. Not at him. At those stupid elders, for thinking they knew what was best for her. At that hollow, for killing so many of her friends and leaving her behind.

But, to be honest, she directed most of that anger at herself. By allowing herself to fall so deep into despair, she had let down her brother, Ukitake, and, most of all, everyone who had left their hearts with her.

Tears trickled slowly from her eyes. Whenever she blinked, she could see Byakuya's placid gaze staring at her through the thin film of steam exuded from his tea. She had been unable to stop her breath from catching, or her heart from beating out of her chest.

The Kuchiki elders have decided the best course for you is to be married, he had said. Since I have no heirs, and having already been married, it is your responsibility to provide the Kuchiki house with the future generation.

It hit her like a blow. In all her years, she never thought she'd have to worry about that decision. The Kuchikis did their best to hide her away, to deny that they would allow street-born scum like her to squalor their houses. That they would entrust their future to her was a notion beyond ridiculous. It bordered insane.

So it didn't take a lot of thinking for her to realize her marriage would be an arranged to another of the noble houses. With Byakuya's gaze on her, she had to fight not to cry.

She had lost more than what any person should have to lose over the years. Friends, subordinates, and any peace of mind she had accumulated over the years. Now with this thrust upon her future, she realized that they were taking the last thing she had – her ability to fight.

Never did Rukia cry about what she thought unfair. But now she pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes and let herself sob silently, wondering how in the world she could fix this. The Kuchiki elders were steadfast and unmovable when they reached a decision. They hardly listened to anyone. If they wouldn't listen to Byakuya, why would they listen to her?

She hadn't been able to react when Byakuya told her. She sat there for minutes, in shock, until he finally closed his eyes and sighed. I told Ukitake you wouldn't show up today, he told her. But you'll be expected there tomorrow.

For what point? She murmured to herself. It would be better for her to accept now she would never be going back. But she had no strength to deny him. Instead she muttered an assent, then excused herself. His stony gaze followed her until she closed the door.

Her appetite disappeared, so she resigned herself to a long bath. Unfortunately, she never could get her troubles to soak away. So when she finished, she walked around the acres of garden until her legs ached and the sun began to set. Byakuya left by the time she returned. Just as well, she still wasn't hungry.

The moon rose before she managed to cry herself out. In the dark, she felt wasted and exhausted. One part of her just wanted to fall asleep, to leave the world behind. Maybe her mind would take pity on her for once, and she would sleep long and peaceful.

But the longer she lay there, the more awake she felt. The tears on her face dried to salty trails, and she rubbed them away vigorously. With a bout of energy, she sat up. Her heart beat rapidly, despite the fact she only sat there, as if adrenaline pulsed through her veins. She stood up, moving over to her mirror. For the first time in months, she looked at her reflection.

Not just saw, but looked. She studied the color of her eyes, and the slopes of her cheeks. She wondered about the way her hair framed her face. She touched her lips, feeling the slow escape of air as she exhaled.

Then she smiled.

She watched the way her face crinkled and her lips stretched. She smiled harder, until the light filled her eyes and they glittered back at her.

Then she relaxed, allowing her face to return to its normal expression. The light in her eyes died, and all other expression seemed to fade. She stared in an almost horror at the complete mask of blankness on her features. Her hand went to her cheek, and for a grim moment, she could understand Hisagi's complete distaste for her.

In that moment, she could see her entire future stretched out in front of her. Broken and forced into a marriage with a man she may or may not even grow to like. Children she would bear who would always face the brunt of animosity, because they would be the ones unlucky enough to have a street dog for a mother. Who knew if she would even be able to return to her post as lieutenant. The only freedom she had been allowed would be stripped. She would be a caged animal.

Instinct more than anything else guided her to her closet. On a dizzy rush, she stripped of her pajamas and delved past the expensive kimonos and black robes. She reached into the back, where she never went anymore, and pulled out the white flowered dress a certain Quincy had the kindness to sew for her. She rubbed the fabric beneath her fingers, then slipped it over her head.

Under the tangible pressure of shadow, she had never felt so whole.

* * *

><p>Light and shadow don't always get along with silence.<p>

This isn't silence's fault. Silence has a nature, a purpose, just like light and shadow do. However, true silence has the bad habit of shoving everything else out of the room.

So what remains, when silence beats away even light and shadow?

A sound, reader.

The sound of silence is the whisper of hope on a hopeless day.

The sound of silence is the breath of a condemned who doesn't want to die.

The sound of silence is an old man rotting alone with only regrets to condole him.

And even more than those, silence is the sound left when the blade pierces the heart, and cries go still in the air. When the life and longing and even the light of a soul are stripped bare.

Silence is death, reader.

But, silence is also peace.

* * *

><p>Before that sun set, reader, Hitsugaya sat himself next to Hinamori, and refused to leave her side.<p>

It didn't matter that Unohana and other squad members kept rushing in and out to do their business, throwing him dirty looks on the way. He felt drunk on the fact she woke. He hadn't planned to stay, but when she took his hands in hers, he could feel her fragility on her skin. She reminded him of a glass doll, ready to break if someone played too rough.

Therefore, he decided he couldn't trust anyone else to keep her safe. So even if it made his heart ache to stay there, he grit his teeth and did it anyways.

Their initial conversation bade slow. He assured her over and over again he didn't blame her, he forgave her a long time ago. Her sobs and the frequent interruption of healers caused her acceptance to drag on for hours.

She asked him about Rangiku. He tried his best not to stiffen, but she noticed. "She… got hurt in battle," he told her quietly. "She hasn't recovered yet."

Momo gasped, raising her hands to her mouth. Her eyes threatened to glisten with tears again, and Toshiro winced. He knew she hurt, but he wished she would stop crying. "That's horrible, Shiro," she sighed. "Was it Captain Ichimaru?"

The captain hesitated. "Yeah, it sort of was," he admitted. He couldn't explain to her that, in fact, Gin planned on killing Aizen from the start. From her perspective, he still remained the most dangerous of the traitors.

He dreaded this topic of conversation, but conversation also proved his downfall. Before he could try to change the topic, Momo gripped his hands again. She looked him earnestly in the eyes, in a pleading way. "Look, I know it seems like Captain Aizen's bad, but I really don't think he is! We both know how manipulative Captain Ichimaru can be. Look at how he made us fight!"

Her heart showed so clearly on her face, he had to look away. Momo Hinamori knew him better than any other being on the planet. They were friends, if not just from childhood. He wanted to protect her, more than anything.

But he also wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. He wanted to scream at her, to ask her how Aizen's illusions could still hold such a strangle hold on her. Why she would choose the self-centered captain over her own best friend. Because even if their fight had been orchestrated by Gin and Aizen, she still chose to believe Aizen over him. Despite their years of history, he came second when it came to her love for her captain.

That realization hurt, much more than he could deny. He tried not to be seen as young, but sometimes he knew himself to be naïve. For some reason, he always saw them together. He expected nothing to come between them, because his loyalty to her was unbreakable.

He had awhile to get over the pain of the fact that she would never see him the way he saw her. He could swear until he turned blue that he would always be there, and she would simply smile in her oblivious way. To her, he held the position of brother and friend. He knew that by now. Nothing had changed.

Before, he would have done his best to convince her she was wrong and Aizen betrayed them. Now, when she smiled beseechingly, he turned his eyes back to hers and nodded. "I don't think that's true," he told her as calmly as he could. "But if it is, then we'll help him."

Her resulting smile shone so bright, he felt himself go weak. Even if he knew nothing could happen between them, he found her beautiful.

"Thanks, Shiro," she said happily. "I know other people don't trust him, but we'll prove he's as great a man we always thought, won't we?"

Healers bursting through the door saved him from having to reply. He smiled one of his smaller smiles, then stood. "Sorry, Momo, but I've got to go," he told her. She nodded in understanding. A captain had responsibilities, didn't he?

Not to his surprise, Unohana stood outside the door as he left. He shut the door, trying hard to ignore her. He respected the fourth squad captain, but her perception abilities were uncanny, and oftentimes unwanted.

"Her memories may come back on their own," she said softly. "But if they don't…"

"We'll find a way to deal with it," Captain Hitsugaya cut her off. He had no more patience for her or anyone else. He longed to return to his home and go to bed. "Goodnight, Captain Unohana," he said, turning down the hall and disappearing into the shades of sunset.

* * *

><p>The sun welcomed itself back with a blast of flushed hues, dyed in soaked paints across the sky. By the time it deigned to covet the ground with saturated light, the white haired captain of the tenth already awoke and began his day.<p>

His instincts told him to return to Hinamori, but habitual duty kept him from doing so. Therefore, he ended up back in his office nearly an hour before everyone else began to arrive. Someone had taken the prerogative to put his paperwork on his desk. The towering stack made him feel ill. At least some of the work would be divided to the other members of the team as well.

Despite the window in his office, the afternoon snuck up on him without warning. By the time he set down his working pencil to rub his sore eyes, early afternoon had come and gone. The midday sun shone bright and hot, unfettered by clouds in the middle of the sky.

He looked back at the pile of paperwork. With his best efforts, it shrunk by only a third, and he could feel a thick headache at the back of his eyes. He sighed, standing up to stretch cramped bones. Captains deserved short breaks every once and a while, too.

Downstairs, they had a room for snacks and tea and places to relax. However, the captain wanted something different. He left the tenth squad, aiming for the infirmary.

He never got there, though. On his way, he felt a warm hand placed on his shoulder. He flinched slightly, turning around to the sudden sight of Ukitake. The elder smiled down at him kindly.

Naturally, Toshiro stepped a bit backwards. Not that he didn't like Jushiro, but he had the habit of unloading piles of sweets upon him. Sweets that really didn't have any use now that Rangiku couldn't eat them.

Ukitake didn't seem to mind. He removed his hand, and Toshiro saw in his face concern. He stopped, peering up at his hazel eyes. "Captain Ukitake, is something wrong?" he asked.

The captain closed his eyes for a moment, and Toshiro could see all the years of age and sickness held in the single man's body. "You wouldn't have seen Rukia Kuchiki today, Captain Hitsugaya?"

Toshiro blinked in surprise. "No, not since we got back from our mission yesterday. Why?"

"She never came to report to duty this morning," the captain replied despondently, sounding like a man whose light hope has been squashed. "Kiyone and Sentaro thought that she might have had to meet with the other members from your mission. But she isn't at squads three or nine, either."

Confusion clouded Toshiro's gaze. "Okay… but… it's only been a few hours. She might just be at home, or off training, or…"

He faltered when Ukitake shook his head again. In his expression Hitsugaya could recognize the fond worry a father often felt for his daughter. A familiar feeling began to grip him, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He knew that look, of someone who didn't know something was wrong, but could feel it.

"In normal cases, you'd probably be right," Ukitake said rather quietly. "But Captain Kuchiki told me something a bit disturbing about Rukia's future. See, I wasn't very worried until Captain Kuchiki told me she wasn't at the manor, either."

Curiosity pulled at Toshiro's veins. His feet shifted. He still wanted to see Momo, but he kept himself rooted. The image of Rukia laughing so suddenly, breaking that image of blankness on her face, appeared in his mind. "What did he tell you?" Toshiro prompted, surprising Ukitake.

The elder raised his hands, shaking his head back and forth. "No, I shouldn't bother you any more. You have a lot of work to do, and I heard Momo Hinamori woke up, right?"

Hitsugaya gulped, knowing his duty lie with his friend. But he found himself refusing. "Momo won't be going anywhere. What happened to Lieutenant Kuchiki?"

Ukitake hesitated, his smile dropping back into a frown. With a sigh, he bent forward, relenting to Hitsugaya's stubborn gaze.

The shorter captain's eyes widened as he heard Ukitake relate the tale. He had heard of the nobles doing many strange things, but he found it hard to believe they would pull Kuchiki out just to provide heirs. "It's not like she's very old. Why now?" he asked.

Ukitake ran a hand through his white hair, saying, "I'm not exactly sure. I asked myself, but Captain Kuchiki wouldn't say. I suspect it has something to do with the rumors following her around."

"Rumors?"

"Yes," he nodded, although he looked sicker than before. "Rukia just hasn't really been the same ever since Ichigo died. Not that anyone would expect her to be," he added quickly. "I think the Kuchiki elders are doing something along the lines of pulling her out of sight, while fulfilling their own agendas."

It clicked in Hitsugaya's mind. He stared hard at Ukitake, saying, "and you think she's run away?"

He shifted uncomfortably, as if he were accused of something. "Maybe. When Captain Kuchiki said she wasn't at the manor, I sort of had my suspicions. But I don't want to report her missing, because she probably means to come back, and-"

"-and you don't want her to get in trouble," Hitsugaya finished for him with a mumble. "I understand. But what makes you think she'll come back?"

Ukitake sighed. "A hunch, really. Rukia may not like the Kuchiki elders, but she takes her duty to her brother very seriously. I doubt she would leave him to deal with repercussions that were her fault. Not after the ordeal of her execution."

He didn't have to say anymore. Hitsugaya understood. Even if the elder Kuchiki had a cold face, everyone knew he had a soft spot for his sister. In turn, she respected him more than she probably respected the Captain Commander.

Short silence lapsed between them, Ukitake brooding while Hitsugaya thoughtful. "What are you going to do?" he asked the elder.

Ukitake shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. She most likely is heading towards Karakura town, but I can't just head after her. I would, but…" he trailed off. Hitsugaya saw the weariness in his stance. Ukitake had probably spent most of his energy searching for the missing lieutenant. He would hardly be able to stand a trip to the world of the living, let alone try to convince her to return.

A world of duty rested on Toshiro's shoulders, but, even if it were for just a moment, he shook it off. "I'll go," he said, stopping Jushiro's surprised protest before it could begin. "It's alright, all I have waiting for me is some paperwork. If anything, it would be a welcome distraction."

He did his best to smile. While his expression didn't reach happy, at least he didn't grimace. Ukitake stared back at him with naked relief in his eyes. "That would be… thank you, Captain Hitsugaya," he bowed low. Toshiro tried not to flush, but groveling always made him nervous. Jushiro straightened, a huge grin on his face. "Don't worry, I'll have all your favorite snacks for you when you get back."

Toshiro's face fell. "Wait, that's not really necessary…!" he began to call, but Ukitake was already walking away. He called another thank you over his shoulder, and Hitsugaya fell to a brooding frown.

"She's going to owe me," he grumbled, stomping back towards his office. If he was going to the world of the living, there were a few things he needed first.

* * *

><p>Hey! I think I may be one of the few HitsuRuki stories that doesn't completely bash Momo.

Not that she's really my favorite character. Actually, I guess I sort of did do some bashing to her character. I mean, I know Aizen tricked her and what-not, but her blind devotion borders on Kaname's level, and we all know how well that turned out for him.

I just want to take a moment to thank everyone following along with this story who have showed their love with comments. That being said, I love everyone who drops a comment by! Feedback has never hurt a writer.

Next chapter, we get to see Ichigo's family again. Stoked!

Until next time!


	9. Freedom is Greater or Equal To Nothing

How awkward. I'm not dead.

Well folks, I'm sorry for the delay. Not that many people care at this point, but for those that do, I will finish this for you!

Well, that's what I tell myself anyways. Oh well. And if there are future delays, which will most likely happen, know that this story will be finished. I may not make my original goal of finishing by the end of 2013 (practically impossible at this point), but I will finish it. I would stake my right hand on it, and that's my favorite hand.

Enough rambling. Without further ado, chapter nine is here.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>"<em>Possible is more a matter of attitude<em>

_A matter of decision, to choose_

_Among the impossible possibilities_

_When one sound opportunity_

_Becomes a possible solution"_

_-Dejan Stojanovic_

* * *

><p>Winter in Karakura Town cuts the days short of light and paints roads dark with the silence of snow. Each footfall predicates a series of dancing snowflakes, blown in twisting patterns by billows of wind and ice which slivered her cheeks red.<p>

The streets empty of humans, forced to take shelter from blistering cold in homely-shaped dens designed with warmth. She'd pity the homeless, but even they have taken the refuge they can, hiding in the bellies of allies and bridges to gain some sort of assurance from the freeze.

Winter, by nature, remains shadow's domain. Snow may be bright and blinding, but the days are short and the sun remains often blocked by thick clouds of cover. No, reader. Winter will, and always will be, an accomplice of shadow.

Which, more than anything else, fits the soul reaper's mood as she traversed the sidewalks. The absence of people just made it easier to move. If an outsider spotted her walking, she would look no different from the various bundles. Her head tipped down with a hat tucked over her ears, hands stuck in her jacket pockets while wide boots left crusty imprints in the thin veil of fresh snow. She breathed in: tasted the chilly tinge, breathed out: watched pale white clouds swirl and dissipate as they were exhaled.

Vaguely, she hoped no one at home had really even noticed her missing yet. A slim chance, seeing as today would have marked her first day as lieutenant. Captain Ukitake would be expecting her, and he'd worry himself sick, or sicker, about her. For that, she felt horribly guilty.

Kiyone and Sentaro would be panicked, because they cared about her in their own loud, obnoxious way. Her brother would be the only blockade between herself and a search party. If he knew her as well as she believed he did, he wouldn't search for her right away. Because if he did know her as well as she believed he did, he would know she had every intention of returning.

She would never run away. Despite her fears and unresolved issues, duty as well as respect kept her rooted to her responsibilities. But she didn't want to face them right away, either.

Luckily, Kisuke Urahara had been accommodating when she told him the story. She swore him to silence, and while the man may be a slippery devil, she trusted his word. He wouldn't sell her out. Really, he didn't need to, because everyone would have expected him to help her, anyways.

Still, he loaned her a gigai and some of Ururu's winter clothes. When she brought up payment, he made sure to let her know he'd collect some other time.

'For now, it's on me," he said, and she gave him thanks.

Now, her feet carried her on an automatic route. Across the bridge, past her old school, and over the railroad tracks that led north to larger and smaller cities. Going through the park proved the hardest. Everywhere she turned, she swore she saw a flutter at the corner of her eyes. Her old friends were running through her brain, and flashing at her edge of sight.

At long last, she met with the sight of stairs. At least fifty of them, heading up the hill. With a deep breath, she took a step, and nearly slipped on the ice.

Her hands flew out to catch, and she managed to balance herself through her wildly milling limbs. Once, Ichigo tried to teach her how to ice-skate, and she never really got the hang of it. She fell over every time he let go of her hand, no matter how hard she tried. She snarled at him when he teased her for being so clumsy, despite her ice zanpakuto.

'I'm just not used to it!' she stormed. That, of course, started another round of arguing. One he conceded to once she knocked him on the head a few times.

Her foot hit the top of the stairs. She had ascended while distracted with her own thoughts. For a moment she stopped, closing her eyes briefly.

She missed him. Desperately so.

_But he isn't here,_ a voice muttered in her brain. A flicker of shadow, of the knowing, nibbled at her sense of reality. He would never be here again. Should she try to move on, then? Believing that she would meet him again in the next life?

Exhaling, she opened her eyes to continue forward, only to stop at the sight of another coat-blanketed patron draped in black.

He stared back at her, familiar warm brown eyes wide in shock.

* * *

><p>In the end, convincing Captain Kuchiki Toshiro was the right man for the mission had been much easier the Captain of the Tenth suspected it would be.<p>

In fact, it proved so easy, he had a strange feeling that the cold-eyed Byakuya knew all along it would happen. It unsettled Toshiro, but he told himself there was no more time to consider it, and left anyways.

When he had asked, Byakuya merely raised an eyebrow. 'Chase my sister?' he pondered in that stone, monotonous tone. 'Why should you be the one to go?'

'I'm not personally involved,' he responded immediately. 'It'll be easier for me to bring her back. Plus, if you go, everyone will know something's wrong with her.'

Something in Byakuya's gaze told him he disagreed, but he didn't say anything. Instead, the Kuchiki merely turned his back. 'Very well," he sighed, 'go ahead. But the elders want this to stay discreet.'

Lies, Hitsugaya knew. Ukitake had said that Byakuya refused to tell the elders. For what reason, Toshiro couldn't fathom. For some reason, it struck him as odd that Byakuya would allow Rukia to be subjugated to this position, but he decided not to say anything. He just knew Rukia needed to come back.

_I owe her, don't I?_ He thought to himself, stopping invisibly to inhale cold air. Yes, he knew he owed her. But, strangely, he couldn't comprehend exactly what for.

With a mental shrug, he continued down the street, following the thin red ribbon of Rukia's reiatsu. It always struck him as odd that, although humans couldn't see soul reapers, they reacted with the world in the exact same way. Toshiro felt the brush of cold as frigid flakes brushed his skin, and when he glanced behind himself, he left footprints in the snow.

Yet for all the hurry his mission implied, he still walked slowly. He couldn't shake the gnawing in his stomach – the feeling that pulling Rukia back into Soul Society would break her. He understood her, far more than others, because they were similar. Most who tried to empathize with her ended up with only a headache and a scrap of pity that she didn't really want.

Not to mention the insult the elders have added to injury. Everyone in Soul Society knew of her connection with Ichigo, and the fact he would most likely take her as his wife one day. So to deal with her by carting her off to become the bride of some privileged noble child caused Toshiro's hands to curl to fists.

He had made a choice, though, and as much as he longed to help in some way, he sat powerless in his position. Inhaling deeply, he tasted the fine white cider smell of snow which latched to his tongue, and continued on his way.

* * *

><p>Rukia reached her hands to her throat, a reaction so habitual she hardly even thought about it. "Isshin," she said softly, her eyes lowering once to his feet than back to his eyes, so she could survey his whole appearance.<p>

She recognized the knee-long black coat he wore, pulled tight across his neck so the collar met the jowls of his cheeks. His face, however, appeared wrinkled and smushed, as if Father Time had come himself to paint years of pain and gaunt onto his features.

He looked older. So much older than she had last seen him, and it had hardly been a year. Tears threatened to rise from the back of her throat, and she coughed them away.

"Rukia," he spoke softly, voice lilting like a question, instead of a greeting. Of course, after being gone for so long, how would he expected to have seen her today? It held no merit, nor was it an anniversary of any kind. Yet by those stairs she stood.

Closely, she watched as his expression slipped from surprise back to crafted calm. That, more than anything else, hurt the most. Knowing Isshin this long, he didn't ever do well to hide his emotions. Yet she couldn't explain his stance in any other way besides guarded.

She took a step forward, unable to help the desperate way she hugged her own body. "Listen, Isshin, I always meant to come back, I just…"

"You just left my daughters and I waiting," he finished for her, tone cold. She stopped, dropping her eyes down to her feet. Sour guilt forced her mouth dry while she refused to shed any more tears. Even if this family deserved them. For his sake, she should curl up on her knees and beg his forgiveness.

Pride and cold kept her on her toes, but she did her best to apologize. "I am sorry," she gulped, looking up because not doing so would be disrespectful. "I didn't mean to disappear, but people kept getting infected, and…" she choked off, unable to continue. With a meaningful inhale, she said, "Orihime died a week ago."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Isshin freeze. He lifted a hand to his cheek, rubbing away a sliver of snow that had fallen there.

How fitting, she thought in that moment. She lifted her head to face the sky, and wondered what twist of fate brought a snowstorm upon this town today. It made her hope that, for a moment, the world did care at all for her. Even if she knew that hope remained to delude herself.

The sound of snow crunching caused her eyes to life upward. She always underestimated how tall Isshin was, even though Ichigo had inherited his own stature from him. But he towered over her, and she saw small pin-pricks of salty water gathering at the corner of his eyes. He bit his lip, and his arms flew outward.

Before she could hesitate or move, he wrapped himself around her, forcing her into a crushing hug that nearly ripped her breath from her lungs. "My third daughter, when will you realize you don't have to deal with this alone?" he sobbed into her ear. She could feel the same wetness leaking from her orbs, dampening his shirt.

Never had Rukia really been a hugger. She preferred to lurk on the outside of physical contact, only making exceptions when necessary.

She found this moment necessary.

Her mitten hands found his back, and she inhaled his thin veil of cologne. A desperate voice inside her demanded how she could have waited this long to come back. This was Isshin – the man who had been a Soul Society captain, and given up his life to marry Misaki and raise three children. The man who constantly put up a goofy front, just so he could see his daughters smile.

He counted her as a daughter. She always knew he had. Even if he said it in that boisterous, theatrical way, she knew he meant it. It ached to think how much it must have tortured him, to stay away this long.

"I'm learning," she murmured, wriggling slightly so he would let her go. She stepped back, wiping her face on the back of her clothed hands.

"I'm sorry, Isshin," she said quietly, her voice nearly muted by the fallen snow.

Although they were outside, with the cold pressing in from every direction, she found the words tumbling from her mouth. Practically rushing, she told him everything that had happened.

In short, reader, she told him everything that this story has said. She even spoke of Hisagi's resentment, and when she neared the end of her tale, she dropped her eyes. In a near whisper, she spoke of the elder's decision to marry her. She couldn't help it when her voice broke on the last word.

He listened to the whole tale, eyes serious and brilliant in their kindness. When she finished, he let out a long breath of air, running his pink fingers through his hair.

"To be honest, I've always known Captain Kuchiki was stone cold. But I would never have thought he would go along with this sort of thing, especially if you were involved," he said, looking at her closely. She did her best not to react. Even with the act of impending hovering over her head, she could never bring herself to hate her brother.

Luckily, Isshin seemed to sense that. He sighed, closing his eyes. Rukia bit her lip, about to say something, when a strangely familiar reiatsu washed over her.

With an inaudible squeak, Rukia turned on her heel. Isshin opened his eyes, stepping forward to cast long shadows over her shoulder. Through the crux of the storm, she recognized the white mop of hair and cerulean blue eyes.

"Captain Hitsugaya," she gasped, trying to comprehend what in the hell he was doing here. He met her eyes, expression not angry nor exasperated, but merely bemused.

Before he could say anything, Isshin clapped a hand on her shoulder and said, "ah, Toshiro! It's been a long time!" His voice held gregarious, and he waved a hand in casual greeting. The blanket of snow didn't stop Rukia from seeing the vein in Toshiro's head throb.

"You could get away with calling me that when you were Captain, but you're not anymore," Hitsugaya snorted. "Now it's Captain Hitsugaya."

The words by themselves were callous and challenging, yet Isshin merely grinned. Rukia tipped her head, hearing clearly the shelf of fond teasing in his words. This confused her. Captain Hitsugaya never teased.

But she glanced up at Isshin, and saw a friendly smile on his face, and remembered. At one time, Isshin had been a Captain, and Hitsugaya had been his subordinate. The irony was not lost on her.

Isshin leaned over her shoulder, staring probingly at Hitsugaya. "We have a few things to catch up on, don't we, Captain?" he smiled. "Rukia, why don't you go see Ichigo while we talk?"

She shot him a surprised glance, followed with Hitsugaya's irritated glare. Truthfully, Rukia expected fully for Toshiro to refuse, but he didn't. Instead, he shrugged his shoulders rather noncommittally, and Isshin nudged Rukia towards the grave.

"We'll just be over here," he told her, giving her shoulder a slight squeeze. She smiled, pulling herself out of her reverie enough to thank him before turning on her way. She hesitated for only a moment to glance over her shoulder, meeting Hitsugaya's gaze. The teal orbs followed her piercingly, but he made no move to stop her. With a breath of relief, she headed through the stone garden.

* * *

><p>Praying, dear reader, is an act much more intimate than most understand. Rarely does prayer in groups reach through the soul to grip the tendrils of faith – which exist in each and every person in this world, even if they deny it. The hopeless live because they have faith the world will change. The suicidal die because they have faith that the world after this one will be happier.<p>

A real prayer, though, accompanies itself with true silence. It lays itself so barren, because a prayer with a lie is only another deceit.

While Rukia prayed, so did another. In Soul Society, Hisagi draped himself by the bedside of Rangiku Matsumoto. Unohana had summoned him. She couldn't find Toshiro Hitsugaya, so she sought him instead.

'She's fading,' the Captain of the Fourth had said in that longing tone, deep with aching and the sense of loss that only healers know. Hisagi hadn't wanted to believe her. But he couldn't ignore the salient signs when he looked down at the former Lieutenant.

He touched his fingers on her forehead, than dropped them slightly to cradle her cheeks. Her skin, pale and nearly rancid, heated his flesh with fever. He placed his knuckles just outside of her lips to test her breath, finding it shallow and ragged.

Gulping, he took the seat next to her, finding all the energy inside himself to curse her worthless Captain. Anyone who knew Rangiku knew she respected and cared for Toshiro almost more than she did for Gin, if only because he stayed at her side. She might have annoyed him, but she always had his back. And he couldn't even be here to watch her begin to die.

With unharnessed tears, Hisagi took Rangiku's hand roughly, binding it between two of his own while he pressed his forehead against the edge of the mattress. "Please," he blubbered, almost too soft for himself to hear. "Please, Rangiku. You have to wake up. You have to live!"

He demanded it of her, but she continued to lay motionless, practically lifeless, on the white bed. God, she looked so gaunt and sick. Rangiku had never been skinny – she had been healthy. Vibrant. Strong. Now, Hisagi felt certain he stared at a shell.

"Please, Rangiku," he prayed again, pressing her limp hand to his forehead. She hadn't given him enough time. If she had let him in a little more, if she had let herself cope a little while longer, he could've helped her. He knew he could have. He should have.

That's what hurt the most.

Sinking down beside her, Hisagi resolved to stay there, for the night, for the day, for however long she needed him there. He cradled her hand, willing his own life to be absorbed through his skin, and imagining that her eyes would open at any moment. She would look at him with those doe-like orbs, and she would have him, just as she always has.

"I'm sorry, Matsumoto," he whispered, pressing his lips against her hand in a quick kiss. "Please. Don't leave me. Not yet."

Although several squad members would pass through there in the night to check her vitals and made sure she still breathed, none of them dared move Hisagi. He sat, a dark essence attempting to be light, daring anyone to try and kick him out. No one did.

Hisagi had never been a stranger to prayer. Although he, for obvious reasons, believed not in a God, he asked fate, the universe, the world, everything and all its synonyms, to grant him one miracle. Despite the futility, he continued to pray, until he felt a hand pressed against his shoulder.

Rangiku's support still beeped a steady, though low, heart beat. She remained alive, but Hisagi could swear he inhaled the stench of rot from the linoleum floors.

* * *

><p>From his vantage point, Hitsugaya could dimly see Rukia as she knelt before the grave. She clasped her hands in front of her, bowing her head and closing her eyes, despite the snow that must be wetting her knees. To him, she almost looked like a small child. She certainly had the build of one.<p>

Just behind him stood Isshin, hands shoved in his pockets, with an expression far more serious than his usual gawking. He watched Rukia, almost protectively, and Hitsugaya shifted from foot to foot. No matter his duties or rank, a lingering, if begrudging, respect still lingered for his old captain.

"So do you know why she ran away?" Isshin asked, breaking the taboo silence of the softly drifting snow.

His brown eyes were warm, yet aloof. Toshiro met them, having no doubt that Rukia had told the man of her own predicament. Silently, he nodded once.

"That's why I volunteered to find her," he murmured, earning the Kurosaki's surprised stare. Of course he would assume Toshiro had been assigned this mission. Everyone would assume that.

Isshin shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "You were always full of surprises, Toshiro," he said softly, fondly, moving his eyes back to Rukia's lithe form. "Now that you found her, what are you going to do?"

Secretly, Hitsugaya had expected that Isshin would fight him tooth and claw to keep Rukia, if she wanted to stay. Then again, if she wanted to stay, Hitsugaya expected finding her would be much harder than it had been.

He hesitated on his answer, an action causing Isshin to look at him closely. "She's something special, you know. She deserves far more than what she has gotten out of life."

Toshiro clenched his fists out of habit. Of course, he understood very well what it meant to be cheated by life. They all had been robbed of some privilege, some happiness, at one time or another. Isshin gave up his status, and now he had given up a son and a wife. He, in the meantime, was trying to figure out how to feel again.

Thoughtfully, the captain nodded his head of white. "I know," he responded with the same hushed tones. His eyes shifted back to Rukia as the reaper stood from her prayers, having left imprints of knees upon the snow.

He watched her carefully while she threaded her way back through the graves. For all her intensity, her eyes were glued to the ground, and he suspected the sparkle of wet in her eyes weighed her forehead forwards.

A cruel man would call notice to her tears, but Hitsugaya had never been cruel. Dutifully, he ignored them, pretending a silent shadow caught his attention when she ran the back of her gloves briskly over her cheeks, washing away all traces of saline.

Then, with all the grace forced into the limbs of a noble, she raised her head and met his eyes. With no wobble in her voice, she asked, "will you take me back to Soul Society, Captain?"

The remark, not meant to be mocking, sent off a warning of irritation through Hitsugaya's skin. He had never taken well to being spoken to condescendingly, and while at one point he would crush his sallow anger to make room for professional light, now he embraced the spike of emotion with eager arms.

Slowly, surely, he felt the bugs rooted from his stomach. If Rukia could be the one with just enough haughty humility and cast down pride to make his blood boil, then so be it.

Yet Hitsugaya prompted himself a controlled man, and with Isshin's careful gaze, he bit back a retort. Instead he met the challenging violet, eyes narrowed, voice clear, saying, "you'll cause a lot of problems for people if you're gone for too long." He paused, thinking, before adding, "you've already caused problems. Namely to both your brother and Captain Ukitake."

Although his tone bordered accusatory, it instead fell on the side of monotonous fact. Because, although he didn't know much about the younger Kuchiki, he knew enough to realize she kept those who mattered to her close to her heart – close enough that hurting them caused her pain as well.

So, predictably, despite the flat of his voice, shame clouded her face at his words. Hitsugaya had known already that Rukia would have to return to Soul Society, if only to save her brother trouble. But then, it struck him how gripped by duty she could be. No pain in the world would tear her from her family. Not while she continued to breathe.

In that moment, his benign respect for the reaper adopted into admiration.

At his side, Isshin placed a hand upon Hitsugaya's shoulder, who practically flinched at the contact. In truth, he had forgotten Isshin was even there.

Even with the contact, though, Isshin directed his words at Rukia. "There's nothing to feel bad about. After all, Ichigo wouldn't be very happy if you didn't come see him before you were about to get married."

His words, somehow, lightened the mood. Rukia smiled, a watery, strange gesture on her face, and shook her head. "I think if he were still alive, he would have fought with my brother and dragged me back to your house by force."

Isshin chuckled, his smile contrary to his dripping on his cheeks which had nothing to do with the fallen snow. "Yeah, he would have brought down all of Seretei just to get you back. Then Kisuke and I would have to jump in and pull his sorry ass out of whatever mess he was in."

The smile on Rukia's face grew wider, a grin Hitsugaya had hardly seen before, although he suspected she directed it often at the late substitute reaper. "Yeah," she sighed, "he could really be an idiot."

Isshin nodded, not bothering to disguise his crying. "That stupid son of mine. He really knew how to mess everything up, huh?"

Then he lifted his arm to his face, covering it. His other hand, still resting on Hitsugaya's shoulder, squeezed, causing the young Captain to squirm under the pressure. Never had the Captain of the Tenth been gifted at comforting people. He always excused himself awkwardly when Momo or Rangiku cried. Plus, the sight of seeing his old captain, usually so goofy and strong, practically brought Toshiro to tears as well.

Luckily, Rukia acted before he had a chance to do something stupid. She stepped up to Isshin, wrapping her arms around his waist, and he wasted no time in hugging her back. For once, Rukia didn't show tears. Instead, she lent comfort to the broken father, while he fought back hiccupping sobs. In the background, Toshiro had to look away, the moment too private for his eyes to intrude.

How long they stood there could have been hours, yet Toshiro suspected only minutes passed before Isshin pulled away. He had a sheepish grin on his face, as if embarrassed to be caught so openly in a moment of weakness. Yet Rukia shared his pain, and she smiled back at him.

"You know, I really loved your idiot son," she said quietly, earning Isshin's shaky smile.

"He really loved you," he responded, only slightly hesitating over the past tense.

They reveled in their memories, but the other issue couldn't be forgotten. Rukia cast a quick glance in Hitsugaya's direction, who had slowly turned so he half-faced them, in a nearly unconscious way. But once she remembered her duty, she couldn't forget it.

She turned towards him, violet eyes steely, as if bracing herself already for the future which clamped metal jaws before her. He would pity her, but both of them had seen too much death to care for empty words.

Therefore, before she could speak her resolve, he let out a long sigh, cutting her off as he closed his eyes. "Alright," he groaned in a reluctant way, "I'll give."

Caught off guard, Rukia regarded him with an automatically suspicious gaze. He opened his teal eyes, trying hard not to smirk at her trying to appear nonchalant with her jaw dropped open.

"What do you mean?" she breathed, her voice shaky in her confusion. Behind her, Toshiro spotted Isshin's small smile, and he resisted the urge to scowl back.

"I mean," he drawled with candor, "that I won't make you return to Soul Society until tonight. And before you say anything," he added quickly before she could interject, "I wasn't really sent on an official mission. I'm here because it would have been suspicious if Captains Ukitake or Kuchiki tried to chase you, and I suspect we can stay a little while before anyone really misses us."

For all his calm delivery, he couldn't keep the lopsided smile from his face when Rukia's expression changed from mild befuddlement to complete astound. Her eyes, wider than watermelons, engulfed nearly half her face.

With her struck momentarily silent, Isshin leaned forward, traces of depression gone as he grinned mischievously. "Perfect!" he cried. "You two kids can hang around, and then you'll come back to my house later for dinner. My treat!"

He laughed loudly, snapping Rukia from her reverie. She shot Isshin an accusatory glance, saying, "don't you mean Yuzu's treat?"

Hitsugaya smirked, and Isshin choked a bit on his laughter, running a hand through his hair. "Nothing gets past my third daughter!" he declared, not losing his smile for an instant. "But I'm sure she'd be more than thrilled to cook for you."

His words were earnest, and while Toshiro steamed still from being referred to as 'kid', Rukia smiled softly. "Alright, Isshin. We'll be there by six."

Isshin grinned, turning away with a brisk wave, and setting himself roaming through the inch-deep snow. "Perfect! I'll get home to let Yuzu know. You better not make her late, Toshiro!" he called over his shoulder.

The captain scowled, wondering why he just never visited the Kurosaki when he felt blank. Like his son, he had a way of pushing his buttons.

They both watched him recede, standing quietly until Hitsugaya broke the silence. "I'm assuming you meant the royal 'we', right?"

"Huh?" she grunted, turning her eyes back to him. Then, remembering who she spoke to, she blushed and said, "I meant… well, what do you mean?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Hitsugaya said, "I mean that you probably don't want me trailing after you while you do whatever it is you're going to do. So I can just meet you when you're ready to go back."

She hesitated, once again looking suspicious. "You don't think I'm at any sort of risk to run away?" she challenged.

It took him a moment for him to realize she thought he meant to follow her. He met her eyes closely, not breaking contact when he shook his head slightly. "I know you would return to your brother," he said, and she relaxed from the honesty in his words. "I won't follow you around."

Moments passed before Rukia broke their locked gazes. She shoved her mitten hands in her pockets, kicking the snow slightly. He practically drawled a comment on her pause, but she interrupted him with, "or you can come with me."

Truthfully, Hitsugaya had fully suspected her to agree with his words. So this time, he felt his own face grow salient with surprise at her suggestion. In a hushed tone he barely managed to disguise as purposeful, he asked, "would you really want me to do that?"

She shrugged, then realized the inane nature of her action, and nodded her head. "Isshin will expect you to be at dinner anyways, and I know you know Karin," she paused, searching for words, before adding, "and it's not like you didn't know Ichigo. You spent a fair time in the world of the living, too."

Of course he had, even before he met Ichigo and the rest of his gang. Yet the point of her words didn't remain lost on the captain. Rukia invited him to share his grief with her, and her with him, and while he usually liked to keep his suffering quiet, he found the offer too tempting to resist. So he nodded his head, and she smiled faintly at him.

"Good," she breathed, her words forming in convoluted mists around her mouth. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Really, of all places he expected her to lead him, he hadn't imagined they'd end up by the river. Despite the white ground, she dusted off a place to sit and pulled her coat beneath her, so she could rest by the frozen banks. Still in his reaper guise, Toshiro took no such liberties, and simply stood beside her.<p>

It didn't surprise him because of the seeming plain appearance of such a stream. It surprised him because he knew this must be the host of a memory, most likely too intimate for him to ever ask about. In honesty, he expected her to lead him to the school, or maybe a park. Not anything grand, but nothing this… distant. After all, Ichigo had a reason to hate rivers.

Still, it felt out of comfort for him to ask, and Rukia didn't offer any explanation. When he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes, she had leaned forward to wrap her arms around her knees, resting her chin on the caps. She stared forward, lost in thought, and Hitsugaya would be loathe to interrupt her.

Instead, for the first time in awhile, he thought about Ichigo. His death shook up Soul Society in a way no one had expected. Really, the whole of Seretei owed him a debt they could never repay – not in life, and certainly not in death. He established his whole reputation on breaking rules he didn't believe in, and destroying anything that threatened his friends. After Aizen, he appeared unstoppable. Which made his death even more devastating.

He hadn't been the first to pass out of his friends. Surprisingly, Chad had been the first to go. Yet his demise happened so abruptly, no one had known what to make of it. He had fought the hollow, which escaped, and went to bed perfectly healthy. Two days later, Uryu found him dead in his room. Without Unohana's healing, the parasite ravaged his body and spiritual pressure, making him too weak to even crawl to his phone and ask for help.

It had been so sudden, everyone was still reeling when the parasite stole Tatsuki away as well. Like Chad, she never even had a chance to fight. Nearly two weeks after his death, she followed.

By that time, Ichigo and the whole Karakura town, as well as his many allies, were in full panic mode. Something kept happening that he couldn't stop. Yet the hollow managed to kill Uryu too, and would have kept killing, if its next victim hadn't happened to be Renji.

Unlike Renji's living counterparts, he naturally had much more strength and reiatsu, plus quick access to the Fourth Squad's hospital. While the parasite continued to drain away his life, Kurotsuchi attempted to evacuate it, but found that doing so would only kill Renji faster. Unohana couldn't heal him fast enough to keep up with the damage. For days, Rukia refused to leave his bedside, and even her older brother, as cold and steadfast as he could be, spent nearly all his nights in the hospital.

His death ended up being the one to send warning flags throughout Soul Society, leading the Captain Commander to mark this hollow as extremely dangerous and high priority. Shortly after Renji's death, Rangiku encountered the hollow and ended up in a coma.

At that time, Hitsugaya's world had already begun to crumble. Both Momo and his lieutenant refused to wake up, and the bitter seeds of guilty loathing took root within him. Eves after Rangiku's accident, they bloomed into an infestation which feasted miserably on his soul.

Yet even his attention had been caught when one day, out of the blue, Ichigo collapsed while walking down the street. Kisuke, the intelligent bastard, quickly realized what happened, and sent him to Soul Society for treatment. A futile gesture – the hollow couldn't be found and killed, and Ichigo had no cure. The only hope rested upon his own tendency to beat the impossible, yet even Ichigo's visored form could do nothing to stop the creature squirming in his veins. In his imminent death, they moved him back to his house, to spend his last days with his family. For seven months, he battled his condition, but never could he beat it.

Nobody really expected him to die. The famous ryoka, withering so easily after liberating Soul Society from its greatest threat? Laughable. And people did laugh, at the seeming ridiculousness of the situation. But when he stopped breathing, those laughs turned to sobs, and all of Soul Society hushed in mourn for the hero.

Regretfully, Toshiro couldn't remember exactly when Orihime Inoue, the most recent victim, contracted the parasite. Surprisingly, she stayed alive much longer than Ichigo, but Unohana attributed that to her extraordinary healing skills. When Orihime still had strength, she would automatically heal herself. But eventually, the parasite took that skill, too, and she fell into a sleep she would never awake.

Toshiro couldn't remember when that happened, but he knew instinctively that, by that time, Rukia's own strength had been sapped and twisted in a way so unfair that people could only have empathy for her. Pity would belittle her struggle.

And that, all of that, had happened over the course of just over three years. Practically fifteen months ago, Ichigo died. The wound upon Rukia must still taste salty and raw.

He glanced down at her again, wondering, pondering, what it would mean to lose a person you loved in that way. Sure, when the night went dark and he lay on his bed by himself, he could admit that he loved Momo for a very long time. Of course, he still did, but now as he would a sister and a friend. It took many years, but after she betrayed him for Aizen's sake, he accepted that she would never think of him romantically. It hurt, but he moved on.

Rukia, however, had every reason to believe she would have years together with Ichigo. By all accounts, she should've had him after he died, but the parasite's work ensured that his soul withered along with his body.

So while he kept his thoughts busy of her, she broke their long silence first, not bothering to look at him when she said, "I'm sorry about Lieutenant Matsumoto."

He paused, knowing those words, but feeling the empathy she exuded. With a sigh, he found himself crouching in the snow next to her. The cold bit his skin, but he acknowledged it as a reminded that he could still feel.

He didn't say anything, not right away, and she didn't prompt him. For all her silence, he could feel curiosity stretching around her. He couldn't explain why, but in that moment, he remembered confronting her at the graveyard, just after Orihime's funeral.

'It's funny,' he had said quietly, 'Funny, how this is where we ended up.'

'Not funny." She had corrected him, violet gaze refusing to leave the painful grave within the ground. 'Not funny. But sad, very sad.'

And he supposed that, just as humorlessly funny as it could be, he couldn't deny that his days stretched with depression, and the cloak he wore for months had been woven by grief and trimmed with guilt. Inescapable. Ugly.

He sensed the cloth she knew compared. Awkwardly, yet striding, he muttered, "You know, this might be a weird thing to say, but I wish I had known Ichigo better."

Her eyes flashed to him in surprise, although he kept his blushing gaze on the banks. Emotional moments caught him off guard, and he had to focus not to let the words fade before they could escape his throat. With a gulp, he added, "I wish I knew you better, too."

He murmured so softly, he wondered if she even managed to make sense of his words. She felt rigid, yet timid, beside him, watching him, and he imagined her expression wide and wonderful. He couldn't dare to look, not until she placed her hand on his.

The mittens were made from soft wool, and clumped from the snow. He glanced up at her, finally meeting her eyes, and wondering what made her gaze so intense when he hardly minded the older Kuchiki's icy glare. She smiled, and when tears clung to her lashes, he could only imagine the watery reflection she saw in his own orbs.

"Thank you," she said, unable to help the slight wobble in her tone. She swallowed briskly, but she didn't have to explain.

Hitsugaya never really allowed himself physical touch with other people, and when he did, only for those he trusted implicitly. Perhaps he never knew much about how Rukia used to be, but perhaps that was for the best. She would never be the same as before, just like him. Life altered them both, and in the aftermath, neither of them were confused by pretenses.

Therefore, on the shallow edge of those bitter banks, he held her hand. Because, in that moment, they were no longer Captain of the Tenth or Lieutenant of the Thirteenth. He forgot his title of prodigy, just as she rejected her stamp of nobility.

Together, they were two young souls worn haggard. They didn't search for a way to return things back to how they used to be. Instead, they reached with toes and fingers in quest for a new normal – a connection hardly based on words, and a tie based on similar grief, but reaffirmed by compatibility.

* * *

><p>"Rukia!" a voice howled and a blur of a girl flew around the corner, practically tackling Rukia off her feet as she hit her. The reaper bit her cheek, saved by the wall at her back when she stumbled, wrapping her arms instinctively around the flying blur. She didn't recognize her as Yuzu until dark blonde hair brushed by her eyes.<p>

"Yuzu," Rukia managed to gasp back, regaining her balance as Yuzu clung to her, thin body bent and racking with sobs.

"I didn't… I mean… we thought… you're back!" she cried, her thoughts too jumbled to speak intelligibly. Luckily, Rukia didn't need any translation.

With a soft breath, she hugged her tighter, saying, "Hush, Yuzu. I always meant to come back, I'm sorry I'm so late." Over Yuzu's shoulder, she spotted a blubbering Isshin, while the dark form of Karin lingered by the table.

After a minute, Yuzu pulled back, wiping her eyes. Rukia smiled, letting go so she could sweep her eyes over the girl. She hadn't seen her for months, and those months had been generous to the quickly-growing girl.

In the kitchen, she spotted Karin, having gone through the same changes. Stick-straight figures had grown in places that promised attractive curves in the future, although Yuzu's hips were wider than Karin's. Both had let their hair grow, and the baby fat on their faces diminished in place of high cheek bones and dimpled smiles. Of course, Rukia had always known they'd be beautiful.

Yuzu smiled brilliantly at her, replacing their hug by taking her hands. "It's been so long! How have you been? We missed you!" she said so quickly, Rukia had no time to reply.

From the background, Karin said, "Oi, what the hell are you doing here, Toshiro?"

Rukia practically forgot the Captain entered behind her, but she could feel his automatic irritation at her tone. He may not have known Ichigo that well, but he could certainly sense his parallel in Karin's brash nature.

"Captain Hitsugaya," he corrected with a hiss, although everyone knew Karin would never comply. "It's complicated."

Karin raised her brow, but he offered no more explanation than that. She practically glowered, furious, before turning an accusing stare on Rukia. "And why are you here? I would have thought you'd up and ditched us by now."

Immediately, Yuzu gasped out, "Karin!" and even Isshin frowned. Hitsugaya cast a teal glow upon her, and only Rukia remained unfazed. She knew Ichigo's family, whether they wanted her to or not. She had expected Yuzu and Isshin to want her back, while Karin would be hostile. Karin always had a fiery nature, which took on a much more threatening tone after Ichigo passed. In fact, Rukia would have been more surprised if she handled it calmly.

So she did all she could do in the face of unforgiving wrath. She met Karin's eye, and said, "I would never ditch you. But it's been too painful to come back."

At that, Karin flared. Her eyes grew wide in anger, and she marched right up to her, practically shoving a protesting Yuzu aside. Isshin lurched forward, but instead of grabbing Karin, he held onto Yuzu. Nothing could come between them. They needed to clear the air.

"Too painful?" Karin spat in her face. "Too painful? How do you think it's been living here? We were his family! He was _my_ big brother, and he wasn't supposed to die!"

Her bottom lip quivered, but she refused to cry. Karin would always refuse to cry, and Rukia understood, because she spent so many days biting her lips raw to keep her tears to herself. Softly, so softly, she responded, "I know. It isn't fair he died, and it was cowardly of me to avoid you guys because it hurt too much. And I can't stay, but I'll keep coming back. You won't be rid of me that easily."

The two girls stared hard at each other – Karin daring her to break down, and Rukia refusing to even hesitate. She wouldn't lose this showdown. She wouldn't lose this family.

Finally, Karin looked away, crossing her arms firmly over her chest. "This whole thing's ridiculous. Yuzu, isn't dinner ready?"

At the prompt, Yuzu jumped into action, mumbling a loud, incoherent affirmative as she rushed to the kitchen. Slowly, Karin turned around and headed to the table. Rukia exhaled a deep breath she had been holding, looking back up at a sheepish Isshin.

"In a way, Karin took his death the hardest of all," he mumbled, and Rukia nodded. She understood – Isshin was the type of father who would never apologize for his children. But he still considered Rukia one of his own, and his protection extended to her, too.

Besides, she believed Isshin had a point. Yuzu never inherited her father and mother's spiritual prowess. Instead, she had been born a much more normal human being. While she had progressed to the point where she could see Hitsugaya, she would never have enough reiatsu to fight high-level hollow or really participate in the Gotei Guard Squads when she eventually did die.

On the other hand, Karin busied herself with following in Ichigo's footsteps. Her spiritual pressure allowed her to kill small hollow with a good kick and a soccer ball. She possessed a desire to protect everyone around her, although she hovered particularly over Yuzu. Rukia knew she'd never hear her say it, but Karin looked up to Ichigo as a model. She could be a substitute reaper, too. She could help purify souls and save her friends.

And perhaps it would still be something she could learn to do. The fact stood, though, that she expected Ichigo to help teach her more. He already mentored her, even though she also learned underneath Kisuke and Yoroichi. He would be the one to fight beside until she could fight on her own, because that's what big brothers do. After he died, the one sure path she always assumed to take, disappeared.

Almost unconsciously, Rukia glanced back at Hitsugaya. He met her gaze, raising his eyebrow slightly. "She, like most of the Kurosakis, will never learn to respect my name," he snorted.

The comment lingered so light, Rukia couldn't help but smile, if mostly from surprise. "She's not even a substitute soul reaper, she doesn't abide to all our rules," she replied, mirth in her voice.

Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, an act that made his expression match his youthful features. In a way, she found herself amused by his sheer potential to catch her off guard. By all accounts, she attributed Hitsugaya a humorless man. Sure, he had witty responses when Rangiku pestered him all the time, but she never imagined him to be comical.

"She doesn't abide by the rules, but she does it out of cheek," he grumbled, sidestepping her so he could venture to the table.

This time, Rukia nearly rolled her eyes. She knew Ichigo and Karin well enough to realize that their referral to his first name stood a sign of respect, albeit a slashed one. Ichigo only ever referred to the correct names of people he hated or feared.

Isshin had clamored to the table to get there before Toshiro, forcing himself past him to claim his favorite chair, leaving Rukia the last to sit besides Yuzu, who busied herself setting the table. She followed them, consciously choosing to sit across from Karin, who eyed her warily.

The glare didn't come from hate, but transferred anger. Luckily for Rukia, Karin's anger mixed thick with care and admiration, while Hisagi held nothing but disdain.

Yuzu placed the food down, and any worry over an awkward situation vanished. Isshin and Karin dove into the food, competing for their shares, while Yuzu complained loudly. Hitsugaya stared, too dumbstruck to intervene or eat his own. Rukia felt her smile return, and realized that in the heat of the commotion, it felt much more natural than she ever remembered.

* * *

><p>"Do you have to go?" Yuzu begged into Rukia's shoulder. "You could stay the night! Or a week!"<p>

"Yeah!" sniffed Isshin, bundled awkwardly into Rukia's other arm. "My third daughter's leaving me so soon!"

Both father and daughter had managed to wiggle into Rukia's embrace at the same time, and were refusing to let her go. Hitsugaya leaned on the doorframe, watching with waning patience, and glancing to the side as Karin approached him.

"You're a pretty bad retriever," she snorted at him before he could even squeeze in a greeting. Out of reaction, he scowled and glanced away.

When he didn't answer, Karin merely shifted so she could stand in his face. Up close, he could easily notice the changes time had bestowed. Unlike most others, Hitsugaya's thoughts rarely turned to the lustful, so he could scan her body with interest that stayed placidly in the platonic.

If Karin noticed, she didn't say anything. "Seriously. Dad told us why Rukia came, and why she can't stay, and why you're with her."

That got his attention, and he peered closely at the teen. Despite her aggressive stance, he knew that expression in her eyes. Unlike Yuzu and Isshin, who wore their emotions on their sleeves, Karin maintained the same front always. She desired to be tough, so she refused to falter. Unfortunately, it caused her to suffer her pain by herself, even if what she needed most was a shoulder to cry on.

With a sigh, Hitsugaya glanced away. "If you already knew, why give Lieutenant Kuchiki a hard time? Arranged marriage isn't easy on anyone."

Karin looked back at him, straightening herself, and he imagined a glisten of vulnerability in her eyes. "Because," she sighed, "I had to make sure that she wouldn't let that stop her from coming back to us."

Once again, Karin surprised him. He blinked, asking, "so you would guilt trip her into it?"

"She needs it, and so do Dad and Yuzu," she snapped back. She turned, and Hitsugaya followed her movements to see Rukia extricating herself from the gushing pair. Underneath Karin's breath, she muttered, "I need her, too," so quietly, he barely heard. In fact, he doubted she wanted him to, so he didn't comment.

With Rukia able to retreat to the door, she gave the family one last hug, and declined Isshin's offer for him to escort them. "I already have an escort," she replied, casting one eye upon Hitsugaya, who refused to stumble.

"And we should head back," he growled, reminding her of the duty she had been pressing to forget. Underneath his urging, she nodded. Isshin refused to let go until he had one last hug, causing Yuzu to need another as well. When she finally turned to Karin, her eyes were a mix of annoyance and amusement.

Karin told him the truth. She wanted Rukia to come back, so she refused a long goodbye. "You should get out, before they tie you up," Karin said dryly, before practically shoving them out. As a last minute thought, she glanced at Toshiro and said, "we should play soccer next time," and then slammed the door.

They both stood on the other side, a bit winded from the energy, until Hitsugaya turned them down the street.

"That family's a bit crazy," he muttered, earning a snort from Rukia. 'A bit' was a bit of an understatement.

She didn't reply, and he concurred with her elapsed silence. With each step, he could sense all remnants of cheer disappearing from her blood. At dinner with the Kurosakis, she smiled almost freely. She laughed, and she talked without the same restriction she always applied in formal situations.

It must hurt horribly, to turn her back on such familiarity just so she could be pressured into a marriage and a family she didn't even want. He imagined the expression of happiness he had just seen, and knew it would practically vanish.

They pondered, but they did not hesitate, because sometimes duty pulled stronger than fear, and blood definitely dripped thicker than water. He didn't stop, not until a familiar spiritual pressure washed over his senses, and his feet faltered.

Rukia stopped, too. He glanced at her, and found the same horror he felt reflected in her gaze. They spent too long stalking that aura recently to not recognize it immediately.

The parasite. The hollow. Somewhere, it lurked, with a hungering force that made Toshiro's mouth water with the taste of revenge which promised itself. But that part didn't make his blood run cold.

No. Instead, he could detect a fine line of variance, just under the thick tang of blood-filled lust. Something so fine, it practically escaped his notice, but held just enough potency to catch his attention. A remnant of a man with a brash nature and an annoying tendency to butt his nose into any matter which concerned his friends. The hollow's presence made his blood boil.

But the trace of Ichigo's reiatsu sent cold shivers of adrenaline to his heart.

* * *

><p>No! A whole new chapter just for there to be another cliff hanger! Why, world?<p>

At least this chapter's a bit longer than my average. See, I had a lot of fun writing the parts between Rukia and Hitsugaya. To tell the truth, it's always hard to tell how to characters who have been written and personalized by someone else would usually react to each other when you never really see interactions between them. Rukia and Toshiro don't really have a lot of moments in Bleach, so my combination of them is really theoretical in nature, and my writing has always been a bit sporadic, so the direction their relationship took in this surprised myself.

However, as much fun as I had with them, I was most excited to write about Ichigo's family, with both Karin and Yuzu being a couple of my favorite characters to come from Bleach. Isshin can be a badass too, but he works better as a goof. Still, I had to make him at least a little bit serious for this skit, so there you go.

Also, I don't know if it really snows in Karakura town, but if it doesn't, just imagine that global warming has caused the Earth to relapse into an ice age, sort of The Day After Tomorrow style.

Until next time!


	10. The Details Make it Hard to Breathe

LOL, still not dead.

Once again, sorry for the delay. I really hate making everyone wait so long for chapters, but I always want them to turn out amazing, so I can't write without the proper inspiration. Plus, I haven't watched Bleach in awhile, so I'm always a bit freaked out that I might screw up characterization.

Ah well, I suppose I'll get over it.

Enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>I thought of how proud he was when he took the marks – <em>

_cutting the skin of his throat in a long slash _

_and then packing it with ashes until keloid scars rose up. _

_He called it his second smile._

_-Holly Black, "Red Glove"_

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Karin thought it extremely difficult to have a twin.<p>

Sometimes, she thought Ichigo got lucky with having two sisters to protect, and no one who fought to protect him. Sure, things were hard, but he didn't have to deal with what would basically be his other half complaining and following him around and making sure he ate right and did his homework and blah, blah, blah.

Karin would think that whenever she returned home from training, only to have Yuzu waiting up in the dining room with her homework, because even a training reaper shouldn't fail her classes. She also thought it when Yuzu woke her up at five in the morning to ensure she ate a nutritionally balanced meal before they went to school.

Not like Karin didn't know Yuzu did it out of love. She had always been that sort of worry wart – the type of girl to take any sort of living being under her wing so she could raise it with love and kindness. Karin thought that was awesome for _her_, but would she mind letting her sleep in every now and then?

But then Yuzu would do something sweet, like packing extra granola bars in her backpack, so Karin would always have something to nibble on when training kept her out well past curfew. Or she would do Karin's laundry without having to be asked, or clean their room, or say something generally to make the straight-faced teen smile, and Karin would remember that Yuzu basically made up half of Karin's soul, and she wouldn't be able to function without her.

And sometimes, Karin would hate herself for thinking so, but she couldn't help be relieved that Ichigo had fought so hard to protect Yuzu, even if it cost his life, because there would be no way for Karin to recover from losing her.

Then she would hate herself for thinking something like that, and she would end up doing something sentimental, like going to Ichigo's grave or taking out the hidden box of some of his old things. Yet no matter how bad she felt about it, she couldn't take back the truth.

In the beginning, Karin had spent every waking moment of seeing ghosts, denying them. No matter what sort of beasts she saw, she would chalk it up to the trick of the light, or some sort of scientific phenomena she didn't really have the dedication to research. Ghosts weren't real. They were figments of the imagination. Ideas given physical form by fear and desire.

But then those hollows began to show up. A few at first, then they appeared by the dozens. They had huge ugly mouths, empty eyes, and holes where their hearts should have been. When they saw her, they would lick their lips and whisper in haunted voices about what a good meal she would make.

Nobody else really saw them. But Karin could remember the look of terror on Yuzu's face when a storming hollow had picked her up by the throat and slammed her against the wall. In that moment, the world of ghosts became not just real, but painfully clear to Karin. Suddenly, she could feel, if not see, every wisp of a ghost that passed her on the street. She noticed when Ichigo would fly through the sky, his long black robes fluttering behind him, and she began to feel Rukia's unique spiritual pressure. Although the gigai she took from Kisuke hid her well, it didn't completely disguise the smell of death on her skin.

In those moments, Karin realized the true danger Ichigo constantly put himself in, and the extent of his involvement with Soul Society. For him, she acknowledged ghosts were real. For Yuzu, she resolved to develop her own power. So she could protect her.

But it didn't help when Yuzu sometimes had the sense of a cow. Karin and Isshin felt the flash of spiritual pressure marking the hollow's entrance into their world quite clearly. They also felt their breath catch when a small, but residual aftertaste of Ichigo filled their mouths.

And Yuzu, for all her familiarity with Ichigo but not with hollows, felt only the presence of her brother. She gasped, leaping back from the sink where her hands had been submerged with scrubbing leftover bits from plates. She would have rushed out the door, but luckily, Karin already stood in her way.

"Did you feel that?" Yuzu gasped, although she could see Karin's eyes were wet for a reason. "He's out there! I felt him, Karin! Brother's out there!"

With a twist of energy, Yuzu moved to run to the door. Karin caught her by the arm, glad for her own strength because she sometimes forgot that Yuzu had much more muscle than her petite frame would let on.

"Stop," Karin gasped, looking pleadingly at her dad as he ran into the living room. "It's not him, Yuzu. He's dead."

The words, although uttered before, felt bitter and sour on her tongue. Yuzu did her best to jerk away, but Karin refused to let go. Whatever lurked out there had only interest in its own hunger. It would devour Yuzu in a heartbeat, and Karin wouldn't let her out of her sight.

Still, Yuzu had been struck with the feeling of her brother's reiatsu. She struggled against Yuzu's grip, begging, "let go, Karin! I felt him! We have to go outside! We have to-"

She cut off when a sob caught in her throat, and Karin used the hesitance to pull her in for an embrace. Karin never had been the hugging type, but there were few people she would change her mind for.

Isshin bumbled up to them. Karin half expected him to throw his arms around them in a gregarious hug, but he only put a hand on each of their shoulders, and stared down at them earnestly. Yuzu clung to Karin, who clung back, with tears rushing down her face. "But he's out there!" she insisted, through the curtain of tears.

Dad shook his head, pulling both his daughters in for a tighter embrace. "He's not coming back," he said softly, knowing full well what exactly lingered outside. He hugged them, knowing he'd never let them fall under the same fate as their brother.

As if sensing his tension, Karin looked up at him, allowing him to hug them, despite her usual annoyance. "It'll be okay," she murmured, to herself, to Yuzu, and to Isshin. "There's a Captain and Lieutenant out there now, ready to protect us."

* * *

><p>She never wanted to see the squirming pile of maggots again, but here they were, swarming at her ankles, slipping up her body, only to freeze at the swing of her blade. For ghosts, they had a surprising amount of matter.<p>

"Lookout!" she heard Toshiro snarl. The parasites had run down them in a wave. They hesitated for only a moment – the shock of feeling Ichigo's presence causing them both to freeze. That split second proved to be all the hollow needed to surround them.

The street reflected in kaleidoscopes of white pigments as the white worms squirmed back and forth. They piled on each other, hissing for closer access, pushing closer until she could feel the firm of the Captain's back against hers. Somehow the thing trapped them.

"Any ideas?" Rukia gritted out, swinging at a couple of parasites that squirmed too close. "What the hell are they waiting for?"

"An opening," Hitsugaya hissed through knotted teeth. Around their skin gathered the familiar cold ice, and the Captain's spiritual presence spiked. The parasites felt it, the ones closest to him shrinking away at the impact. The water from the air cooled and compacted into icy crystals against Hyorinmaru. Rukia closed her eyes, silently willing Sode no Shirayuki to wake in her palms. The sword didn't need much bidding.

Toshiro pressed closer against her back, and when he spoke, she could feel the hum of his voice against her flesh. "Can you hold the parasites off? Like before?"

"Of course," she breathed, tightening her grip. "Are you going after the hollow?"

He didn't speak, but she could feel his stance tightening, coiling, like a snake about to strike. He didn't count down, but she matched her tension to his, and just before he leapt, she unleashed waves of snow from her zanpakuto.

She gasped out her second dance, hardly having time to regain her stance before calling it out again. The parasites kept going, plummeting against her barriers, but she shoved them away with walls of snow. They began to build up on the street corners, creating a barrier between her and the mounting beasts.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted the white-topped captain slinking through shadows, avoiding the massive swarms of poison-eyed beasts as he crept towards the hollow. More and more slinky, silvery parasites exuded from its skin, polluting the streets, searching for their taste.

By now, the feel of Ichigo had long since passed, replaced by the dumb, nagging feel of the hollow. Blindly pursuing them, snarling at an intelligence so low, it could hardly form sentences. A burst of fury escaped Rukia, and in a flash of rage, she slashed a clear opening for Toshiro to slip through.

The hollow, though stupid, knew enough to realize the danger it had been put in. As Toshiro unsheathed his sword and began to mutter rising power into it, the hollow turned its back and fled, leaving a long trail of parasites in its wake.

Hissing, Toshiro flash stepped after it, the city world blurring by his sides as he dodged lunging worms. They gripped at his ankles and flew at his face, trying to make him slip.

He slashed at his feet, and from behind him, another wave of Rukia's snow-blade cleared the path. He sped down it, letting out a yelp of pain as the feeling of something biting his leg burned his nerves. He glanced down for just a moment to see a parasite curled around his ankle. He aimed his palm at it, muttered an incantation, and watched as its little round body blasted into the pavement.

Yet the force of his attack rebounded harder than he expected. The blast caught his heel. He stumbled, and that hollow, that stupid hollow, saw the moment of weakness and pounced.

Toshiro hardly had time to raise his blade to guard when the beast struck him from the side, effectively knocking both his breath and sense out of him as he was sent flying into one of Karakura town's road signs, bending the metal in the imprint of his body as he gasped out blood.

"Captain!" he dimly heard Rukia's name, calling for him to get it together, but even a captain needed a moment after his brain had been jogged like that.

Luckily, the lieutenant saw his problem, because she crafted herself a bearing through the sea of parasites. They squirmed and glowered disgustingly, making her retch despite the situation they were in.

Her aim wasn't for the captain, though. The hollow, also distracted by its apparently easy victory, snarled when Rukia's blade caught its arm, sending blood and howls into the air. Unfortunately, the slippery beast also happened to be quick. It shied away from Rukia's next blow, throwing out parasites to distract her while it had a chance to move.

Not that its chance was very big. In the moments Rukia stole, Hitsugaya stumbled back to his feet, and leveled Hyorinmaru for action. Noticing him again, the parasites changed tide to aim for him, and Rukia noticed. She took a second to glance back at him, and the hollow coiled to strike.

In that second, he caught her gaze, and his returning breath froze. Her midnight hair flowed around her neck, but as she turned back to her own battle, the hollow went to move.

She just looked too _open_, and he couldn't help, in his mind's eye, seeing her bruised and bloodied, lying on the ground as Rangiku had with tears of anguish and confusion muddled in her eyes.

For the first time in a long time, true rage woke in his blood. So powerful, his spiritual pressure skyrocketed, temporarily forcing both the parasites and hollow to balk. A rush of adrenaline-fueled heat boiled through him, and his eyes narrowed as he recalled the _thrill_ of battle that he'd forgotten long ago.

"I'm so sick," he snarled in mutters as he raised Hyorinmaru to the sky, "of these _stupid parasites! _Reign over the frosted heavens, Hyorinmaru!" he roared, to which the ice dragon within his blade answered fiercely.

From his zanpakuto unleashed a storm of water and ice, lashing out, destroying the parasites through both sheer power and icy terror. The hollow screamed in pain, and Rukia screamed something in return, although Hitsugaya focused his power on wiping out the stupid worms that had caused the soul society so much pain.

In the brunt of his attack, the streets looked barren and plain, although various buildings and walls had been cracked and broken beneath the fury of their battle.

Through it all, Rukia did her best to catch the stupid hollow, but in its cowardly way, it ducked each of her attacks, looking for an opening for which it could use to escape her relentless attacks and escape back into its own world.

Like hell Rukia would allow that.

She picked up her pace, chiding herself on being a lieutenant and not being able to catch one stupid hollow. As it skidded a corner, she slipped in front of it, holding out her hand to cast a kido spell.

Somehow, the thing sensed her, and as she raised her arm, she gasped as an eager parasite wrapped around her arm, its sightless head knowing just where her heart lay, and it wriggled forward, excited for its meal.

Cold terror chilled Rukia's spine, and in some sort of instinctual defense she didn't know she had, her body froze. Literally. Ice slipped from her skin and stuck fast to the bug, fastening it to her, but also keeping it from entering her body.

She stayed like that for a moment, staring in terror as the parasite wriggled, unable to escape its ice prison. Then, using her other arm, she sliced the worm through the middle, and it disappeared in a cloud of black flakes.

The interaction could have lasted only a few moments, at most, but when she looked up, she had just enough time to see the black slit portal used to link this world and Hueco Mundo sealing itself. In the dark, the back legs of the hollow were swallowed as it successfully fled.

Rukia stared after it dully, her mind telling her she should _leap forward, attack it, keep it here,_ but her legs refused to move. Perhaps, somewhere deep down, she managed to realize that would be a suicide mission, and she didn't necessarily have the stomach for suicide.

Ichigo had taught her long ago that you don't die for your friends, you live for them. With so many hearts left with her after her friends' passing, how could she let them down by throwing away her life?

That didn't stop her from dropping to her knees in disbelief, tears gathering in unshed pools at her purple irises. The hollow escaped. For a second time, she watched all hopes at restoring balance, all hopes at exacting revenge, slipping through her fingers.

She had no idea something like that could hurt so much.

In that weird sort of habit, she reached up and touched the skin around her neck. She closed her eyes, remembering that day, so long ago, when she hung by the force of a renowned execution machine, waiting for the bird of hell to pierce her soul, to purify her sins. In those days, she really believed she deserved what they said she deserved, that she should be killed for meddling in the life of a human.

And while Ichigo always promised that he would never have found the same happiness had she not become a part of his life, she always felt that guilt, only made worse because she couldn't stand to wish she had never met him. Even when he died, she felt only gratitude for the world showing her that happiness.

Still, sometimes she wondered if the price she had to pay for that happiness cost her more than she had planned for.

She initially didn't feel Toshiro nearing her, but she couldn't ignore the brush of ice when he stood behind her, eyes following where she stared. He most likely couldn't see anything but empty street, but she knew he understood.

"We should head back," he said in a husky voice, and she wanted to yelp, to scream that she didn't want to go back to the life the world promised her. She didn't want to be some random noble's bride, and she didn't want to continue to feel this useless.

And call her a horrible person, but she didn't want to mother a child. She knew what it meant to be an unloved, unwanted child, and she didn't want to become that parent, the one a kid resented because she could just never care enough.

Behind her, she felt the captain's cerulean gaze boring into her back, so strong it practically burned. Despite her desire to tear into him with her fear, she respected him too much. Perhaps it had been an accidental, forced relationship, but somewhere recently, she stopped viewing him as a cold, distant superior, and more as a troubled, serious, but kind, friend? Maybe they were only acquaintances, but she liked him, nonetheless.

So when he offered a hand out to her, she accepted it, and stood back up. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a phone to contact Soul Society, and offered her one of the most downcast, brilliantly beguiled smiles she had ever seen.

"Don't worry, we'll get it next time," he said, and she wanted to laugh. Next time? She doubted there would be a next time. Where did he get this sort of conviction from? In a more mundane way, he reminded her of Ichigo. Those blazing eyes, and the determined look on his features that could convince anyone of his resolve.

Even her.

To hell with it, she decided mentally, and she offered her own smile back. The gesture felt so familiar yet so foreign at the same time, and she remembered that she liked the way the muscles wrinkled when she did that. To hell with doubt, to hell with the elders, and to hell with that stupid hollow. The next time she saw it, she was going to take those parasites and shove them down its throat. Just let anyone try and stop her.

The expression she had must have been terrifying, because Hitsugaya looked at her with a vague mixture of surprise and a similar raging glee. No one was supposed to hurt their friends, and if they did, that idiot would pay the price. They would be sure of it, next time.

* * *

><p>Next time, reader, will turn out to be sooner than either of them would believe, but later than they would wish. With duty temporarily over, both captain and lieutenant bid goodbye to the world of the living, and returned through the gate with the help of gentle black butterflies.<p>

It was nearly midnight when they returned, but as Hitsugaya suspected and Rukia hoped, nearly nobody noticed their absence. At least, those who had noticed didn't spend too much time losing sleep over it.

The few who did know about this absence, though, wasted no time in tracking the both of them down nearly moments after their return. Ukitake was the first to find her, without Kiyone and Sentaro, for once. He caught them walking back into Soul Society's tenth division, and he bore down on Rukia, immediately admonishing her for worrying him.

Rukia couldn't help feeling miserable at that. Although Toshiro snorted and pointed out he had been in the world of the living _too, _this didn't seem to assuage Ukitake. When Rukia relayed their encounter with the hollow, he looked even sicker.

"That was horribly dangerous, Rukia, even for a lieutenant," he said worriedly. Rukia, both berated and guilty, stared at the floor as she bowed deeply in return.

"I'm sorry, Captain," she told him softly, forcing her tone to come out even, and doing her best to ignore Hitsugaya's piercing stare. He, in his own haughty way, worried for her as well.

In front of her, she heard Ukitake scoff lightly. She looked up in surprise, blanching when he took her by the shoulders and hugged her close.

She gasped, immediately inhaling his sent of tea and watermelon-flavored sweets. He felt warm and sturdy, despite the sickness that she knew raged within his body, and he wrapped his arms around her. Dimly, she could see Hitsugaya turning away, looking a bit embarrassed. Not for her, but because he hated intruding on private moments.

After a moment, Ukitake let her go, pushing her back to arms length so he could survey her with those warm brown eyes. "I'm just glad you weren't hurt," he said thankfully, and Rukia managed a watery smile in return. Damn, when had she started crying again?

As smoothly as she could, she scrubbed her cheeks dry. "I'm fine, we got out okay," she responded, glancing over at Hitsugaya, who seemed to be finding the wall very interesting.

Ukitake sighed, releasing her from his grasp. "Well, I hate having to do this, but you should go home, Rukia," he said softly. "Your brother's waiting for you."

Nothing could dampen her mood more than that quick splash of cold reality. She nodded numbly, saying, "we were on our way to the twelfth division, to tell them about feeling Ichigo's reiatsu…" she started quietly.

"They're probably all in bed by now, Kuchiki," Hitsugaya spoke suddenly, surprising her. She looked at him quickly, and something seemed to linger underneath his gaze. A type of thoughtfulness – like he knew something she didn't, but probably would soon. "You should get home," he agreed.

Two against one. Rukia knew better than to attempt to argue. She shrugged, nodding weakly, and bade goodnight both to her captain and the captain of the tenth. Before she could leave, though, Hitsugaya stepped up beside her, announcing that he'd walk her home.

She balked in surprise, her expression obviously mirroring Ukitake's, whose jaw practically dropped. "Th-that's not necessary," Rukia breathed, forcing herself to keep from flushing in any sort of way.

To his credit, Hitsugaya seemed hardly bothered by both her and Ukitake's shock. "I don't mind," he responded rather flippantly, causing her to blink, sigh, give in. Hitsugaya's reputation for stubborn behavior bordered on the obscene, and she didn't have the patience nor energy to argue with him. They both bowed to Ukitake, who waved them off with a funny little smile.

"Don't get lost!" he called out behind them, making Rukia smile and Hitsugaya snort.

They walked in a similar silence, and Rukia felt herself, almost on instinct, staring at all the buildings they passed, wondering if she would ever even be allowed out here again. Many nobles spent their days within the confines of whatever manors they lived on. She already felt itchy with restraint.

In a way she hoped was sneaky, she cast a glance towards Hitsugaya. Despite their earlier battle, he looked just as calm and in-place as normal. In an almost instinctive way, she wondered just what thoughts stormed beneath those calm eyes.

After a moment, she couldn't help it, and said, "thanks."

He looked a bit surprised at that, his eyes widening slightly. "You're thanking me?" he said in disbelief. "I'm the one dragging you back here."

Yeah, so her gratitude didn't make much sense. Still, she shrugged. "I would have come back anyways," she admitted to the truth they both knew. Then she sighed, because she had started herself on this track, and it would be rude not to finish it. "I'm just glad it was you, you know," she said, and upon his bemused look, she snorted.

"I don't mean it like that. I'm just glad you would do that, so Captain Ukitake and my brother didn't have to," she clarified, her voice firm enough to disguise the wobble in her step.

Hitsugaya shrugged his shoulders slightly, glancing away from her. In a quiet voice, he said, "I think we're past the point where you have to thank me for every single thing."

She stopped, looking up to realize that the Kuchiki manor loomed over her, giant doors that threatened to seal her inside. They should strike fear into her, she thought, but she glanced over at Hitsugaya, and his petulant face he used to disguise his awkward emotions.

And she had to say she knew that look well, because she liked to wear it herself. Like right now, when the man who she had placed close to bottom of her list of becoming her unlikely friend offered his support.

But she had few places to receive support from lately, and so she accepted. "I guess we are," she muttered, sighing as she faced the manor. "Does that mean you're going to start calling me by my first name?" she said, in a voice that was actually sort of teasing.

"Only if you call me by mine," he said, and she had to glance at him to confirm that, despite the deadpan tone of his voice, he was teasing her back.

That, she realized, saved her much more than she would have thought. Smiling slightly, she said, "I don't think you'd appreciate that very much."

He smirked, and she was about to bow, but instead, she lifted a hand. "Goodnight, Captain," she said, leaving the unsaid thank you lingering in her tone. He nodded, in that _no problem_ type of way, and bade her goodnight.

Sighing, she opened the door and slipped inside, squinting her eyes to wonder what exactly lay in wait for her on the other side. In the back of her mind, she heard Toshiro's footsteps disappear into the distance. She took a deep breath, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her.

Secretly, she hoped Byakuya and all his staff would be asleep or gone for the night. She felt sudden, bone-weary tired. Sleep seemed welcome, which was a different (pleasant?) change for her, who usually felt trepid about the nightmares that stalked her.

No such luck, though. Almost as soon as she stepped foot inside, a lanky man with impeccable clothing stopped her with a bow, gesturing back towards what she knew was Byakuya's study. "He wishes to see you," the man said, and Rukia nodded back, because she couldn't refuse such an honest gaze.

Once again, without changing, she stepped through the familiar hallways, breathing in, and detecting the underlying scent of sweet cherry blossoms lingering. In all her life, she would never understand how such a gentle scent could be associated with her strong, rather ruthless brother.

At one point she'd be terrified to see her brother after fleeing like this. Terrified of his disappointment, scared that she'd end up sullying his name again. Now, she realized, she no longer feared him like that. Instead, she trusted him as one should trust an older brother.

That didn't mean she couldn't help hesitating at his door. She may trust him, but Byakuya was as severe as they come.

Not that it mattered, he sensed her anyways. He beckoned her inside with that deep, stony voice, and she shuffled in. The scent of cherry blossoms grew, and she felt surprised to see him standing, waiting for her, rather than simply sitting, like he normally did.

She stopped, frozen, caught beneath that hard gray stare. Even under the guise of night, he didn't remove his white haori. He might think of it as a cheap symbol, but he never let go of his pride.

Soberly, he gestured to the seats on the floor. "Sit," he told her, and she complied. He sat down across from her, pouring her a cup of tea. She accepted it gratefully, inhaling the scent of jasmine and sipping the hot liquid. It burnt her tongue, but warmed her throat and calmed her mind.

She suspected that was what he wanted her to do. She waited, quietly, until he took a drink of his own and decided to speak.

"Taking off to the World of the Living was extremely irresponsible," he told her bluntly, and she tried hard not to flinch, closing her eyes into the fumes of her tea. He paused, as was his nature, letting the words sink in, and she forced herself to meet his eyes, if only for a moment. She couldn't read his expression often, but she knew when his face soured with disappointment, and she didn't want him to look like that.

He did, although his voice remained steady and soft. "Even so, it's understandable, after what I told you," he said, and she nodded, dropping her gaze again.

"I'm sorry," she said, in her respectful tone, eyes downcast. "I shouldn't have left."

Her apology hung in the air around them, turning into heavy stone, and Rukia felt herself being crushed beneath the weight of true silence Byakuya wore around him like a shroud. She wanted to understand that weight, but she could do nothing but quail beneath its force.

Byakuya drank more of his tea, burning the silence with a stare to her bowed head. "You came back," he said honestly, and this time she flinched. The first time she vanished from Soul Society, he had retrieved her manually. This time, she didn't force him to go through that.

But his words sounded dismissive, and she placed her cup on the table and went to stand. He followed suit, surprising her more, as she suddenly found herself loomed over, dwarfed, by his presence.

And because he stood so tall, so unabashed, she waited with shallow breath as he surveyed her, cold and rigid, but at the same time understanding and kind. He knew pain like she did, didn't he?

After a moment, he sighed, saying softly, "I don't expect we'll encounter this problem again, will we?"

The words hit hard, and she bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She shook her head, finding the floor suddenly interesting as she mumbled quietly back to him.

He nodded. "Good," he spoke, this time dismissing her for real. "Captain Ukitake will be expecting you to fill the position of Lieutenant. It would be bad for the Kuchiki name if you couldn't do that."

With his words, Rukia found her head lifting slightly, as she stared back at her brother, mouth slightly open. "Brother…" she breathed, "I thought I wouldn't be fulfilling those duties anymore."

He sent her a look halfway between annoyed glare and dismissive snort. "The elders are here to guide the Kuchiki household, not to determine the future. Hopefully you realize that next time."

This time, she couldn't help her jaw from dropping. Byakuya turned his back to her, taking a seat back at his desk and setting to writing. She floundered for a moment, not sure if she should say anything back to him or just leave. Eventually, habit won over, and she executed a quick bow before leaving his room, and venturing back towards her own.

Shellshock followed her all the way there. Maybe she should have believed more in her brother, her inner voice told her, and she supposed that was correct. After all, while Byakuya did his best to maintain face with both the elders and the outside world, since when had he ever been a pushover?

Until just now, she realized she never thought he would come to her defense in that way. Or, even more likely, she would have willingly done what the elders asked, if she could help save her brother's visage, if only because she owed him that much, if not more.

Ichigo once told her that she sometimes had a hard time understanding that love went in two directions, not just one. Every now and then, she got caught up in what she owed others, and she forgot to expect anything in return. Whether that left her more fulfilled or less, she couldn't tell yet.

* * *

><p>After Hitsugaya dropped her off, he didn't bother to return home just yet.<p>

While he felt tired, sore, and more than a little in need of a bath, his feet just wouldn't bring him home. In those deserted streets, with the moon baking down and the still and silence, he walked and walked, meandering down roads and side streets until everything began to look the same.

His thoughts spurred him on, ideas, happenings, the fight. He felt horrible that the hollow escaped, for the second time now. He felt like life outstretched a large hand to broadside him across the cheek.

It hurt, it burned, the way the failure coated his skin. And he couldn't remember the last time he had felt so alive.

Underneath a cold moonlit glare, he closed his eyes and breathed in, wondering if this is how he always felt when a mission went awry. He had forgotten the churn in his gut, and the rush of despondent fury that swam in his veins and caused his hands to fist with vigor. For all these months, he had believed that what he felt was both failure and guilt.

With this thudding in his chest, though, he knew he couldn't have been more wrong. Those months were spent blank. He didn't live them (at least in the way that Soul Reapers do). He skidded through the top. He performed each motion and closed his eyes and pretended that everything could one day be the way it once was.

How foolish, he sneered at himself. What a stupid thing to believe. His lieutenant and his best friend end up in comas, and his other friends, Ichigo and the rest, are killed by a hollow. What in the world would make him think things could be the same again?

But that's what the beetles do, reader. In maintaining a person to look the same on the outside, things on the inside had to remain in stasis. Plain, simple stasis that froze someone, kept them from taking any steps, whether forwards or backwards. And Hitsugaya found that he didn't want to be static anymore. He wanted to move.

For that, he owed the little Kuchiki, and he couldn't deny that her own sadness lifted a mirror to himself. In her, he saw reflected all the hardships, all the despair. But, in her, he also saw someone strong enough to straighten underneath that burden and carry on, and that impressed him more than he could say.

He wanted to repay her. He wanted to help her, because despite the fact that she carried her friends' hearts, and refused to back down, he could see the hesitance and fear lurking behind that violet gaze. She may be strong, but everybody had a breaking point, and he didn't want her to find hers.

'_But you still have something to do,'_ Hyorinmaru rumbled, in that voice made of cold and power. Hitsugaya nodded, although Hyornimaru couldn't see, and picked up his pace as he walked.

Yes, there was something he had to do first, he realized. Because many things suffered as he was suffering now, and he wanted it to stop. He didn't want to pause, he didn't want to rewind. He wanted to move forward. He wanted a future that he could move onto, and it might be slow, but he knew things wouldn't be ending so soon.

So he took his time, reader. He continued his long walk, moving until the sun began to rise, streaking light's insistence touch over the sky in forms of red and pink light that softened to pale green, than blue. Toshiro had seen the sunrise countless times – after all he liked to get up early to finish paperwork – but this one seemed different. More vibrant. Fresh, and it welcomed him warmly.

And when the sun finally began to rise, and Toshiro felt both weary and elated, he found himself on a familiar hilltop, next to familiar tree, staring down at a familiar pond.

Maybe Captain Commander would scowl at him later for this, but he knew he had to do something. He stared hard at the old tree (remember, reader, the Tree of Time?) and when he listened closely, he could practically hear the beetles shuffling underneath.

In a shudder of disgust, he remembered that at one point, he not only compared himself to that tree, but took companionship in its similarity. They were alike, and in a strange way, Toshiro had liked that fact. Now he stared at the old tree, withered and long since dead, and felt pity.

Hyorinmaru quivered at his back, and in a smooth arc, Toshiro pulled his sword from its sheath and sliced the tree down the middle.

In retrospect, he should have stood back. He was unprepared for the amount of bugs that came swarming out of the trunk, panicking and buzzing and using translucent wings to fly circles. Hitsugaya snarled in annoyance, back peddling to watch the disgusting debacle as the bugs fled from their safety. Some crawled, some flew, and some continued to crawl all over the tree, unsure of how to continue.

The tree itself, though, held his gaze. He watched in amazed revolt as the bark turned from smooth gray to rotten green and brown. Without the bug's magic, the years caught up with the tree, and in the smooth green grass, the tree became nothing more than a mound of rotten, mushy bark, infested with maggots.

And while that sun rose, he stood and watched until the bugs swarmed away, some dying from exposure, others searching for a new victim. Toshiro knew, they'd never be totally gone, but from here on out, he wouldn't allow them to use him as a host.

Finally, the grass cleared, and he took a calm seat, brushing away a stray bug crawling up his leg, and stared out at that duck-less pond. He felt weary and tired and hungry, but he didn't move. The sun heated his back, and he turned his face to meet it.

The worst wasn't over, yet.

* * *

><p>Rukia woke up far before sunrise, so before the maids had a chance to wake her for breakfast, she had already slung her zanpakuto to her hip, pulled on her uniform and set off for the Division 13 quarters.<p>

They said she must be feeling better, because she hadn't gone to work early in a long time. She said she was just terrified of accidentally encountering any elder members, since they liked to haunt the halls like the old ghosts they were in the late mornings. This way, she didn't have to encounter any of their accusing stares.

Maybe not the most mature approach, but if it worked, who was she to question its worth?

Besides, she did feel a little nervous over taking a lieutenant's responsibilities. Sure, she may have acted as one in anything but name before (due to the fact Kiyone and Sentaro, while caring, couldn't get over their rivalry long enough to actually do much), but having the title placed a whole new weight over her shoulders.

Not that she minded it that much, she discovered the closer she got to the thirteenth squad. Responsibility and duty were always burdens she liked to carry. She may not be the strongest of soul reapers, but she'd by lying if she said she didn't enjoy battle.

Of course, she didn't inherit the same sick sense of satisfaction that the eleventh squad seemed to enjoy so much, but she had warrior's blood.

Ukitake had been feeling sick lately, so it surprised her when she opened the door and found him already there, sitting cross legged, eyes closed, cup of steaming tea in his hands. He looked so peaceful, Rukia almost blanched an apology and backed out to give him more time for meditation.

She didn't need to, though. As soon as she entered, he sensed her presence, and he opened his eyes with a kind smile. She always felt surprised and warmed by his unconditional caring. She knew very few people could stand to be so compassionate.

"Rukia, you're here pretty early," he commented lightly, and she practically shrugged, before swallowing the gesture.

Trying not to look too embarrassed, she nodded, saying, "I woke up and I couldn't go back to sleep."

Ukitake chuckled, smiling as he placed his tea to the side and stood up as well. "I wasn't really expecting you until later, so I was going to have Kiyone and Sentaro show you the more boring aspects of the lieutenant duties, since they've been filling in for awhile," he smiled.

Again, Rukia felt flustered. She couldn't help feeling a little bad for taking the lieutenant's position, despite the fact both those guys had been jockeying for the title for years. Then again, it sort of made sense. Any promotion over the other could end in disaster.

"Sorry," she told him quickly, "I could go and come back…"

"There's no need," he cut her off breezily. "Since you're here already, I might as well show you myself. I don't mind," he added with a chuckle when Rukia blushed and told him that wasn't necessary.

In fact, he wouldn't take no for an answer, and Ukitake always had a way of changing her mind. So that morning, they spent talking and drinking tea. Most of the lieutenant duties she already knew, but he went over them again, just to make sure, and she decided she had never really had this much fun with her captain before.

After awhile, they ran out of lieutenant duties to talk about, and so they discussed general things – his health (good, he insisted, but he never really liked to tell the truth about it), her health (good, she said, and for the first time in awhile, he believed her), her brother, the squad, and just anything in general.

It seemed such a quiet, pointless conversation, but Rukia wondered if he realized what exactly that meant to her. She had forgotten what it meant, to just _sit_ and _be_ with another being, with a friend, and talk about nothing in particular. It felt better than anything she'd experienced in a long time.

So it still bothered her when Kiyone and Sentaro came busting in loudly, arguing about something, as usual, causing Rukia to flinch and Ukitake to wince. "Calm down," he told the both softly, and the straightened immediately at his order.

Of course, then they proceeded to ignore that order as Kiyone spotted Rukia. "Hey, you're back!" she crowed loudly, leaping forward to grab Rukia's hands. "We thought you had fallen off the face of the earth!"

Before Rukia could negate that, Sentaro bust forward, sniffing meanly. "Kiyone, you idiot! People can't just fall off the face of the earth! It's _round._"

"Get over it, it was a joke," Kiyone snapped back, turning to glare at the brunette man.

As they continued to squabble, Ukitake smiled back at Rukia. "Since it's your first day, you should probably take it pretty easy," he told her calmly. "There's a list of duties for you at your desk over there."

She nodded, following his pointing to go to the desk, sniffing slightly as she did. Maybe it sounded stupid, but she couldn't forget that the last person to occupy this space was Kaien.

Listening to Kiyone and Sentaro in the background, she picked up the list of duties, and decided to start from the top. After all, Ukitake said these were the easy missions.

…

Easy missions her ass.

She had to fight not to groan as she walked back towards the thirteenth division, stretching her arms behind her and rubbing a new bruise on her shoulder. For all her training, she supposed she had gotten a little slow.

Either that, or the easy missions she had tackled before stood in a league below the missions she had now. She promised to keep that in mind, next time someone asked her to go train new recruits.

She'd been leading them on a simple mission, but one student, Ayato, managed to lose his footing at the last second, and Rukia had to slice her way between the terrified student and the hollow's mouth. She dodged at the last second, but the movement caused her to land hard on her shoulder and back, and her muscles ached.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and decided to call it an 'oh well'. The student was safe, and hopefully smarter than before, and the only injuries to speak of were minor. She'd be sore for a few days, but she'd been through worse.

Like, 'stabbed through the abdomen' worse.

As she lost herself in thought, trying to cool her throbbing side through will power, a voice called out. For a moment, she ignored it, until she heard someone calling her own name.

On instinct, she stopped, and then wished she hadn't. She didn't need to turn to see that the dark, spiky haired man walking towards her was Hisagi. She knew his voice, and she recognized his spiritual pressure.

But he called out to her again, so she turned. He walked towards her quickly, and in the moments it took for him to reach her, she narrowed her eyes and searched him for malice. She watched his step and listened to his intent, and found…

nothing.

No anger, no hatred, none of the usual fury that liked to hang over him as a second cloak. Just as well, because she knew she wouldn't be able to deal with his normal accusations as complacently as she had.

A couple of weeks ago, she would have bowed her head and shied away from his consuming blame. She'd have allowed him to place any guilt and anger on her shoulders, because she believed, in some twisted sense, that she deserved it. She deserved his misplaced rage and denial, because she failed to protect her friends.

Now, though, she hardly had to think when she raised her chin and met his challenge with violet eyes of storm. She couldn't be his punching bag anymore. Out of respect for both Captain Hitsugaya and Lieutenant Matsumoto, she had to stand her ground.

And she did, admittedly in a bit hostile way, as Hisagi neared her. The closer he approached, though, the more she felt alarmed. Not because she misidentified his emotions, but because he looked absolutely haggard. His skin sagged, pale and gaunt, and his eyes lacked any fire or shine. He had dark circles underneath his eyes, and a weary slump to his shoulders that told her he hadn't had a good night's sleep in days.

"Lieutenant Hisagi," she greeted, choking slightly over her words. She meant to sound abrasive, but under the absolute exhaustion of his stare, her tone softened automatically. "Are you okay?"

He threw her a tired look, immediately shoving the words back down her throat. "Do I look okay?" he snarled, and Rukia couldn't help flinching slightly beneath the force of his words. Immediately, he caught himself, snapping his mouth shut and shaking his head.

"Sorry," he grumbled in an unapologetic way. "I'm not okay. But I guess I'll live." His voice was bitter, and she wondered if living held much interest for him anymore. While she pondered this, he sighed thoughtfully. "And I guess it's just like you to worry, even though I haven't been very kind to you recently."

Surprised, Rukia floundered beneath his stare, trying to find the right words. Before she could think about it, she said, "I guess that's just like you."

Ouch. That stung, and Rukia felt guilty as he winced. As hard on her as he had been lately, she knew he did it out of agony, not out of hatred. Sometimes, Rukia knew exactly what to say. Other times, her mouth liked to run away from her before she had the chance to reflect on the impact of her own words.

Luckily, Hisagi seemed determined to say something else, and her comment didn't send him off steaming. As he paused, she flushed dark and said, "I'm sorry, that was out of line."

He shrugged, looking as if he rolled her words from his shoulders, and she immediately felt envious, wondering if she could learn how to do that. "I deserved it," he responded calmly, if coldly. "But, if you could refrain, I just wanted to say something."

She nodded slowly, crossing her arms as she waited for him to speak. He shuffled from foot to foot, looking both uncomfortable and more than a little awkward. As Rukia slowly realized what he was trying to say, she couldn't help but think he probably had very little experience in apologizing.

"Look," he started, paused, opened his mouth, hesitated, than continued, "I heard what happened with you, and Captain Hitsugaya, back in the world of the living."

He said these words with gravity, and Rukia couldn't help feeling slightly confused. By now, she suspected most of Soul Society knew. Reapers had never been great at keeping secrets. Instead, most became orally-exaggerated gossip.

But she had promised to hear him out, so she kept her opinion to herself. "While you guys were there, I was visiting Rangi – Lieutenant Matsumoto, and I had time to sort of think about things," he continued dully, and Rukia tried not to sigh. So that was why he looked so bedraggled – he'd probably spent sleepless, uncomfortable nights at Rangiku's bedside. Rukia knew that look, because she had spent her own fair share of evenings cradled by the bedside, leaning awkwardly against the bed while her butt fell asleep on the hard chair.

"I thought about our failed mission, and the hollow, and sort of everything," he continued. His eyes were downcast, staring at the floor, and for a moment, she wished he would look _up_ at her. "And I thought about Rangiku, and… well…"

He trailed off, struggling over his words. A group of unseated officers came meandering by, sparing wondering glances towards the two lieutenants, but neither of them noticed. They felt stuck in a world of their own, with the sun shining down, and Hisagi on the brink of saying words he needed and she wanted.

"A lot of stuff happened," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "And it's been hard on us, on all of us. I guess what I should be saying is that I had no right to blame you for anything that happened with Rangiku. It wasn't your fault."

Rukia's vision blurred, and she recognized the sting in her eyes as tears threatening to fall. She blinked them back before they could make an appearance, forcing herself to realize that she had spent so many months crying, she should at least try to hold it together. Quietly, she said, "it wasn't your fault, either."

He stiffened at that, and for a moment, she recognized that hardness in his eyes as how he had been looking at her. But it disappeared as he smiled ruefully and shook his head. "I guess it isn't – not directly," he sighed, although she heard that he barely believed his own words. "But it'll take some time."

_It'll take some time_, he said, and Rukia practically gasped, because the look she saw in him was the look of acceptance. Or, at least of someone who had begun to accept. For him, he had began to allow himself to understand that Rangiku might not ever wake up again. And while that hurt, worse than anything he'd felt before, it was the only way to be able to let go.

As if reading her thoughts, Hisagi shook his head. "She's not dead, not yet," he muttered softly. "But Unohana suspects she doesn't have long."

Rukia's heart practically broke for him and for Captain Hitsugaya, who she knew would hear that update soon. Hisagi grumbled, shaking his head again and turning his back to her. "Anyways, that's really all I wanted to say."

She nodded, although he couldn't see, because she couldn't thank him. Not just yet. Just like they couldn't be friends. At best, he had cleared the air between them. He would no longer blame her for acts she didn't commit, and she would fight back.

He left her standing there, and with a deep breath, she closed her eyes and moved her face to aim towards the sun. She smiled softly, wondering if, in the way the world always seemed to continue turning, if she could find a way to keep living, too.

Maybe the sun made her optimistic, but she had friends to look after, didn't she? And they'd blame her if she didn't even try.

She soaked herself so deeply in thought, she practically jumped when someone placed a hand on her shoulder. She turned rapidly, so rapidly, that she almost bumped noses with the guy behind her.

She blinked, once, twice, as she recognized Captain Hitsugaya standing well within her personal space. They both flushed, and she took a step back, gasping, "Captain! You surprised me."

"You're the one who almost head-butt me," he retorted coolly, and she snorted in reply, crossing her arms. In a way that seemed both familiar and different, he had an amazing ability to rile her up with hardly any words. Was it a gift? Or maybe a curse.

"Only because you surprised me," she repeated, looking at him closely. Something seemed different, although she had a hard time placing it with words. Although he looked tired, unlike Hisagi, he also looked healthy. Lively, even, if she could judge by the focus in his orbs. "Did you need something?"

"Not particularly," he answered. "Are you going on a mission?"

"Just got back," she said, eyeing him suspiciously. "What's going on?"

He smirked, crossing his arms. "You don't have to sound as if I'm about to kidnap you," he said.

"I don't sound like that," Rukia denied. "But by now, it sounds like a viable concern."

He snorted away her comment. "It's nothing like that. Just…" he trailed off, and Rukia blinked, wondering if she was imagining the blush on his cheeks. She figured she had to, because Toshiro Hitsugaya didn't blush.

Did he?

"I was just wondering if you wanted to go somewhere with me," he asked suddenly, catching her by surprise. Despite his blush and hesitant voice, he looked back at her stubbornly, and she found herself falling back on that shrugging gesture again.

"Sure," she answered, trying to swallow the smile on her lips. "What kind of somewhere?"

He held out his hand, and while Rukia doubted that she needed to hold it while they went to wherever, her hand reached out on its own accord, meshing her fingers with his. With a smirk that seemed almost bold, he said, "You'll see."

* * *

><p>Look at that, a happy sort of cliffhanger!<p>

Well, after careful deliberation, I've decided on only three more chapters before the end. So maybe I didn't make my New Years goal, but this should be done by March-ish, I think. Hopefully I'll stop taking random hiatuses and stay on freaking track.

As always, reviews are loved and appreciated. Seriously, if it weren't for the small group that actually follows this story, I don't know if I'd ever finish it. You guys are the greatest!

Until next time!


	11. So Long, The Past Says, Adieu

Well, another few months have passed, and you finally have a new chapter! Yay!

Seriously, sorry for the delay between chapters. I wish I could defeat writer's block with a flick of my wrist, but avast, she be a hardy enemy.

So, for all of you still on board, please enjoy!

* * *

><p><em>It's so hard to forget pain,<em>

_But it's even harder to remember sweetness._

_We have no scar to show for happiness._

_We learn so little from peace._

_-Chuck Palahniuk, __Diary_

* * *

><p>For awhile now, reader, this story has pushed on and forsaken the in depth conversations in order to move the plot along. Together, we have been through a journey of heartbreak and despair, past the chasm of darkness, and right now fingernails dig into the rocks in search of light.<p>

And perhaps you are eager to reach the finale, but allow this story a few moments of reflection, just some words to be able to describe the previously untouched. At the beginning of this story, so long ago, some rules were mentioned, rules that needed to be remembered when considering where our protagonists fit in the cosmic land of light and shadow.

See, if you remember correctly, light and shadow play parts fundamental to your understanding, However, it never meant to be about the two concepts. Instead, this story had been written for the ultimate purpose of relaying a tale which needed to be told.

To be frank, the main point of this discussion is to remind you that light and shadow, as inherit opposites, then inherently have pieces of each other within themselves. This, reader, is where the story crosses from the literal to the figurative, meaning that as much as light and shadow interact in the physical world, the balance and trigger between the two, and the real interest, lies in the way light and shadow react and conflict within a person, within their hearts.

Don't turn away and blanch just yet, reader. Clichés don't always have to be a bad thing. Whether you prefer mind, soul, heart, whether they are the same to you or different, let's just imagine this story speaks about whatever driving force moves the body forward, and causes a person to act the way they do.

Light in shadow, and shadow in light. Opposite completion. Every person has them both inside (although don't mistake, reader, that light automatically means good, and shadow evil), and every person has these two forces in constant conflict, within their heart/brain/soul, whichever you prefer.

Don't be misled by stereotypes, reader. Remember that while shadow tends to harbor darkness, so does light, and darkness which hides in light tends to be especially evil, due to the brightness that blinds people to light's darkness. This, reader, is the shadow that resides within light.

And while shadow scares people, and harbors both evil and darkness, shadow knows more, remembers more, and sees more than light does. It can be selective over its memories, but overall, shadow is terribly fair, and in its eyes, everything is equal. That is the light that harbors within shadow.

However, no one ever said that for any amount of shadow, the amount of light has to match it. Sometimes, light overtakes the soul, with only small parts of shadow to reside. Sometimes shadow takes over, and sometimes they intertwine quite well. Other times, the balance shifts dramatically, and in this event, the person is often left in a sort of shock.

In this case, that person would be a person you should know by now, reader, even if not well. Her name is Hinamori Momo, and as far as Soul Reapers go, she has endured quite a lot of shocks throughout her life.

Meeting Aizen, being betrayed by Aizen, being cut up by Aizen, many of her most decisive moments revolved around that man. To be honest, Aizen, with his sort of power, took Momo under his wing in the most brutal way possible. He wrapped her around his finger, made himself her whole world, and when he finally decided to reveal himself, he cut his losses by doing his best to slice her neck.

Understandably, this shocked Momo a lot.

By nature, Momo wasn't a bad person. In fact, she cared far more than what she really should. She loved her friends, and hated when circumstances left them in danger. She didn't like to fight, she liked people to get along.

But like any other person, she had weaknesses. And Aizen, being the snake he could be, found a rather easy way to squirm himself into her blind sight, practically taking her soul in the process.

The reason this story discusses the past, reader, is because this fine day should have just been another normal one, in Momo's book. Sure, she woke up in the hospital with soreness and atrophied muscles, but she could feel herself growing stronger. Everyday, she asked Unohana with eager eyes, "have you heard anything about Captain Aizen? Is he back yet?"

She always chirped the same line, and always the strange look would pass over Retsu's face, one Momo didn't exactly understand, but chalked it up to internal worries. The healer always shook her head softly at Momo's eager gaze, and it never failed to send her eyes downcast in a sad sort of way. "Oh," she would sigh. "Well, I'm sure he'll be back soon!"

To Unohana, her blind devotion would be admirable, if it weren't so disturbed.

What probably bothered Unohana most, though, was that Aizen seemed to be the only person Momo ever asked about. Sometimes she asked for Renji or Kira, and more often Toshiro, but those moments were few and far between. Unohana knew she couldn't talk about Renji's death without bringing up all the months Momo's brain couldn't remember.

Toshiro hadn't been around in awhile – due to recent missions, but Unohana had seen him recently. He looked much healthier. He had been in a hurry, so he only asked for an update on Rangiku, not his childhood friend.

Not that Unohana could tell him much that wouldn't disturb him. With as much as Momo worried and talked about Aizen, Kira's visits seemed to assuage her of any need to seek the tenth captain out.

And on this day, reader, mistakes were made. Suppose they started out with Hinamori, who, despite her orders to remain in bed and rest, decided she wanted to go outside, and maybe have a look for Aizen herself. She trusted and adored him so much – she just knew he had to be innocent.

So when no squad members were nearby, and the infirmary looked and sounded quiet, she pulled on her robes and slipped outside as quietly as she could. It took her a moment to find her way to an exit, but being small had its advantages, and she left unseen.

Once outside, the sun hit her skin and she stretched her arms, welcoming the heat warmly. It felt like forever since she had ventured outside, and she knew it probably showed in the pale sallow texture of her skin. She barely walked a hundred feet, and her legs already began to feel like jell-o. She still wasn't sure of how much time she spent in a coma, but it must have been awhile to cause her muscle to atrophy like this.

With a weary sigh, she ventured to a tree to lean herself against the trunk, smiling at the cool of the shade as she lifted her chin to look at the clear blue of the sky. So deep, so ethereally beautiful, she thought to herself. She loved to sit on a grassy hilltop and watch the clouds go by, imagining stories within their shapes.

While she collected her strength and daydreamed, two fourth squad members ambled by, talking loudly amongst themselves as they took their breaks, strolling calmly beneath the trees.

Perhaps this could be fate, reader, and perhaps it was coincidence. Either way, when they passed by, their conversation reached Momo's ears, and although she heard their words for only a moment, a moment is all it takes for worlds to be destroyed.

"…doesn't look like she's getting any better, does she?" asked one of them – a short, spunky girl with spiked, artificial blue hair and a compassionate smile. "The Captain said she'll probably die pretty soon."

The other one, a taller girl with a much more platonic demeanor nodded. "She probably doesn't even want to wake up," she sighed. "She hasn't been the same, ever since Captain Ichimaru died."

The shorter girl nodded, a sad, sympathetic look in her eyes. "The Winter War cost us all dearly," she said softly. "Who'd of thought Aizen could have caused us that much grief? We're lucky we had as few casualties as we did."

The taller girl agreed, saying something else, but Momo couldn't hear, because her mind suddenly flashed into overdrive. Those words… that casual conversation… and suddenly her world had been turned upside down. Light and shadow flared within her, fighting for dominance.

Sometimes, reader, light and shadow don't signify good and bad, respectively. Because here, the light sought her compassionate side – the side which trusted Aizen in the first place.

But the shadow knows and remembers a lot more than light ever could. And shadow demanded for her to face the truth.

Underneath the sheen of the clear blue sky, Hinamori let out a screaming sob of confused terror, lifting her hands to her head and tearing out her own hair. She couldn't stand, she couldn't breathe. She couldn't feel when the two squad members came running back, with reinforcements following, and they grabbed her hands to keep them from scratching at her skin, and tried to tell her to _stay calm! Stay calm! Everything's fine!_

but she didn't listen, because she couldn't hear them.

All she could hear was the sound of shadow snarling its way passed light, and forcing her to remember, to listen and to know.

All she could hear was the sound of her world turning to dust, all over again.

* * *

><p>"I talked to her today."<p>

"Really?"

"Kuchiki."

"Yeah."

"Lieutenant Kuchiki."

"I got it," Kira sighed, handing his friend the bottle of sake. Hisagi had practically blown down his door at nearly three in the morning, blubbering about Rangiku and Momo and Kuchiki as well. In his sleepy daze, Kira first thought he was telling him about his love conquests.

And then reality hit.

With a cold, tired glare, he set out two cups, but they forwent them to drink straight from the bottle. Kira always preferred the taste more – stronger than sipping it from those tiny glasses. Hisagi, of course, agreed, although not for completely admirable reasons.

"What did you say?" Kira asked as Hisagi hiccupped and lent his palm to support his chin. He looked horrible, Izuru noted, with sagging bags under his eyes and a decrepit frown that would not leave his face. He'd been spending more and more nights at the hospital. Kira only knew this because he visited Momo frequently as well.

At least he tried to. This morning he went to have morning tea with her, but he was stopped outside her door by a couple of squad members who explained that, while trying to sneak out of the infirmary, Momo heard some things.

'What kind of things?' Kira asked, and the miserable feeling squad member answered that she heard the things she wasn't supposed to hear. And once she heard some of it, she demanded to hear the rest.

'The rest sent her into a shock,' the squad member added. Isane, overhearing this discussion, then pointed out that Momo's 'shock' was more like an all-out rampage as she demanded to see the Captain Commander and have this mess straightened out. Eventually, they had to sedate her.

As far as Kira knew, Momo still floated in blissful dreamland. He wondered what it would be like for her when she finally woke up.

He shook his head of these thoughts, knowing that while Momo had issues, Hisagi stood right before him, and needed his help the most. Within him, Kira saw the same things Rukia had. A begrudging acceptance began to linger in Hisagi's thoughts, the battle raging inside of light and shadow beginning to fade as shadow demanded him to face the truth. He couldn't run anymore. He had to face his denial.

Yet as horrible as Hisagi looked, Kira felt more hopeful for him than he had in many months. Hisagi, while constantly conflicted, was a strong man. For now, he would drown his sorrows in sake and sympathetic company. Tomorrow, he would stand with clear eyes and a straight back, because he could shoulder those burdens.

"She's different," Hisagi slurred, throwing back another gulp. "She looks brighter… you know? That doesn't sound right. She looks more alive, I guess."

Then Hisagi wanted to drop the subject, and Kira let him. He didn't have to hear about the whole exchange to know that somewhere along the line, things had changed. Both Hisagi and Rukia were finding a way to cope. Hisagi acknowledged his transference of guilt. Rukia, apparently, was beginning to realize that her overwhelming guilt helped nobody, especially not herself.

Guilt never really went away, and Kira knew that from experience. But, reader, when you decide you need to heal, that's where light comes in. The brightness of light both dulls and softens the hard edges of guilt, until, one day, the hand remembers how to fight.

* * *

><p>"<em>I was just wondering if you wanted to go somewhere with me."<em>

Toshiro hadn't really meant to surprise her, so when he told her where he wanted to go, and she agreed, she first made him stop off at a spot for lunch where she could fill a pack for snacks and water. He watched this with raised eyebrows, and she said rather without guilt, "we should have a picnic."

"A picnic?" he echoed with a snort. "Isn't that something people in the world of the living do?"

"No, it's something we're going to do," she retorted, packing rice cakes and a strawberry treat. "I'm ready, how about you?"

He didn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he set off walking down the street, only pausing for a moment so she could catch up. He wouldn't say it, but he felt faintly surprised that she seemed so cheerful (well, cheerful for Rukia), with her impending engagement.

He didn't voice his wonder, but she must have sensed it. The whole time they walked, she told him about her brother, and how he promised to protect her from the elders' decisions. In truth, that didn't strike Toshiro as too strange. Byakuya was a strong-minded fellow, not easily swayed by rash decisions.

When he voiced this to Rukia, he glanced over to see a soft, subtle smile on her lips, a reaction of fond admiration. He remembered the distant time where Byakuya once fought to keep Rukia on death row. Those adventures seemed like a whole other lifetime ago.

"He's all I could ask for in a brother," she murmured, violet eyes cast to the sky. "Even if he's a bit hard to read."

Maybe an understatement, but, hey, who was Hitsugaya to talk? His subordinates always (secretly) criticized him for being so hard to approach.

"We're here," Rukia said softly, although the captain could already see that. He stared out at the vast green field, littered with crosses and gravestones. He couldn't see anybody else present. Here the dead are, he mused, and here the dead stay.

Her expression looked hesitant, no matter how much she tried to hide it. Her hands fisted at her side, and she clutched the picnic tighter to her ribs. Here she had a bid for freedom, a bid for the future, but only if she could dare face her past, as painful as it might be.

And Toshiro knew that pain, felt that pain. He struggled hard with the battle of light and shadow, reader, and in the end he did what everyone has to do – accepted that both existed within him, both lived in his soul, and he'd never be rid of that fact. The more he grew, the more he understood that he didn't want to be rid of it either.

He took the first step, but she didn't follow. She stared up the paths and trembled, as if caught in a wild wind no one else could feel. Her violet eyes stayed round and daunted. Hitsugaya sighed. Moving on has never been easy.

But moving on is much easier with a friend.

So he stepped back, and this time he took her hand with his own. By now, he was beginning to learn her hand well – the way it tightened when anxious, or loosened when calm. The curvature of her fingers, and the wrinkly warmth of her palms. She gave him a look of surprise, but he merely stared back at her. He wanted his expression to be meaningful, but he could feel his cheeks pink lightly in a blush.

Luckily, she also looked a little red at their contact, and he ignored both the quickened palpitations of his heart and the sweat on his hands to chalk it up to the lack of regular physical contact with other people. Sure, he might feel shaky, but he suspected that was because he normally did his best to avoid holding hands with girls.

_Women_, his mind corrected him, and he begrudgingly admitted his mistake. No one who lived through what Rukia had could be called anything but a woman.

Whether it was his strength or weakness, or apparent blend of both, she tightened her hand around his, and stepped forward as well. "We can't be too long," she panted as they climbed steadily upwards. "I have a lot of new responsibilities, you know."

"And I don't?" he scoffed in return, making her chuckle slightly. She had a beautiful laugh – the type of laugh that came directly from the belly, and resounded in an infectious way. He wondered, as innocently as he could, if he could make her laugh like that more.

Not today, though. They stopped at the top, and stared at the row of graves. In life, so much separated her friends. In death, they lay buried side by side, save for Tatsuki and Ichigo, both having been buried in the world of the living.

They didn't bring any flowers, he thought with regret, but Rukia didn't seem to mind. She set down her pack of food beneath the shade of a tree, far enough away from the graves to avoid sitting on any bodies. "I'll be back," she said, and while his hand missed hers, he knew he shouldn't follow.

Instead, she gave him the privacy he knew he needed. Sure, he hadn't ever really been close with Ichigo's gang, but that didn't mean he couldn't care for them. One by one, he knelt at each grave, reading the etchings and closing his eyes as he sent small prayers.

_Renji Abarai_, the first read. _Uryu Ishida, Orihime Inoue, Yasutora Sado._ In death, Chad wanted his birth name engraved, not his nickname. Under each name was a short message, detailing standing, such as _Lieutenant, Quincy, Ryoka, _and _'Chad' Fullbringer._ The last one had been a bit of a joke. The large man always had a quiet sense of humor.

And while Hitsugaya didn't really know any of them personally, he sent them prayers to watch over Rukia, watch over Ichigo's family, and watch over the rest of the living who had been left behind. When he finished, he stood up and brushed the grass and dirt from his knees, turning to see Rukia staring at him.

She looked a bit surprised as she met his gaze. "I didn't mean to intrude," she whispered, her eyes wide. Toshiro shrugged – it wasn't as if he'd been telling the graves all about his deepest secrets.

"It's fine," he assured her, looking at her hands where she held an armful of flowers. They were nothing special – normal wildflowers that grew naturally, but the variations of color struck him as simply pretty. "I'll give you a bit of privacy."

"You don't have to," she said automatically, but he knew better. Although he didn't feel too hungry, he scooped up one of the rice balls from her pack and set off down one of the paths, until he couldn't see her anymore. He found a tree to rest against, and sat with his back pressed against the bark, sniffing and eating the onigiri.

He didn't know when exactly the thought to bring her to her friends' graves struck him. He supposed he sort of got the idea from her – after all, she ran away from her brother and her duty so she could see Ichigo one last time. While she would definitely be back at that grave, and at these ones too, it felt important, as if she could finally let go of the past somehow.

The past liked to hold onto people. It was a fine line – one where he had to figure out what part of it would help him up, would teach him to grow stronger, and which part would break him. Sometimes, one had to look to the past in order to define a future. Sometimes, one had to let it go. And slowly, Hitsugaya was learning how to do that.

After this, he decided he would go see Rangiku again. Last time, he had barely been able to look at her sleeping face. Now, he felt that he could look at her again. He could hold her hand, however clammy and limp, and tell her just how much he appreciated her, how much he still owed her. Without her, he might not have even become a Soul Reaper. She changed his life, and although he would always (fondly) remember the moments she drove him crazy, she always had his back. He didn't think he'd ever find a better lieutenant.

He owed her one last visit, at least, where he could tell her this, and maybe she would hear him. Even if she didn't wake up, he didn't want her to die not knowing how much he really cared.

As he mused on this, the rice ball he'd taken only a single bite from lay forgotten in his lap. He stared up at the sky, practically jumping when he noticed another being coming towards him. He looked up to see Rukia, standing just beside him. Her cheeks looked red and puffy, stained with tear tracks. But she smiled anyways, so he smiled back.

"Let's eat," Rukia said, but instead of taking him back to the other graves, she sat down next to him with her pack. Silently, she took away the onigiri he had started, and replaced it with a fresh one. "This one has dirt on it," she pointed out when he protested. "Didn't you notice?"

Well, no. He didn't. But he wasn't about to tell her that, so he simply grumbled and took the one she offered him, mumbling meanly under his breath. When he glanced at her hotly from the sides of his eyes, he saw her practically grinning, a soft chuckle escaping her lips.

She looked… not happy, but almost. In a bid for a change of subject, he asked, "what's your favorite memory of Renji?"

She froze, and he didn't have to look at her to see her expression in his mind. The widening of her eyes, and the slight parting of her lips. Tears sprang silently forward, and he caught them with his fingers. The past – the one trying to break her – still followed her. But he wanted her to know, wanted her to understand, that things didn't have to be this way.

"I remember walking in once after he'd been drinking with Rangiku," he started off instead, leaning his head back against the trunk. "Rangiku had always been a heavy drinker, but this time Renji beat her, and he was able to do something to her, as part of their bet."

He said those words in such a straight-laced, deadpanned expression, Rukia nearly dissolved into giggles, a strange sensation as she just couldn't seem to keep those tears from dripping down her face. She wiped them off obstinately, asking, "what did he do?"

Hitsugaya turned to look at her, his face a mixture of amusement and disgust. "He drew on her," he said, smiling as Rukia started to laugh. "First he drew Hisagi's 69 tattoo, then a bunch of doodles-"

"-which were probably inappropriate-"

"-and then he started drawing cartoons of me and Ichimaru and Hisagi and Kira, and probably a lot more," Hitsugaya grimaced. "When she woke up, she was still pretty drunk. No one told her what was on her face, and she walked all the way to my office looking like that."

He finished his story, having to raise his voice to be heard over Rukia's laugh. He was right – she had a deep laugh, a belly laugh that sounded so rich and deep. Then he laughed too, because hers was infectious, and because he could still remember staring at Rangiku with absolute horror when she came tumbling in through his door, red-faced and drunk and absolutely covered with black drawings. Moreover, she seemed too drunk to care, and although he yelled at her to go take a damn bath, she shoved him aside with her odor and fell fast asleep on his couch.

The memory made him ache. The more he thought about it, the more he joined in with Rukia's laughter. But at the same time, a piece of him said, _you'll never see Rangiku be drunk again. You'll never yell at her for not doing paperwork again. You'll never turn to ask her if she has your back again._ Then he started to cry.

It surprised him. For a few blind moments, he had thought he could have put this past behind him, that he was already moving on. Now, he realized that had been foolish of him to believe – just as naïve as all his other actions. Everything still hung over him – a black veil of pain and agony. Here he thought he could be strong enough to help Kuchiki along, and now he realized, with a bitter laugh, he was in the exact same boat as her, and maybe he always had been.

She must have seen his tears, but she didn't comment. Instead, she threaded his hand with his, and this time he took no time to be embarrassed. He held it back, because he felt it belonged there, with him. He could no longer place himself on a pedestal, he could no longer deny what exactly had become of him.

He was Toshiro Hitsugaya, Captain of the Tenth, wielder of Hyorinmaru, proud, icy and dignified. But life had broken him down, so he would spend his time rebuilding, holding hands with a raven-haired street noble while laughing and crying and remembering every single thing he would ever miss.

Just for the sake of moving on.

* * *

><p>Stay relaxed, reader, and allow for this story to switch its focus, if only for a short while. As focused as this story is on Rukia and Toshiro, and as hard as it can be to hear, the rest of the world turns while they grieve. People live, love, laugh and die with no knowledge of this pain.<p>

And even those with knowledge continue to thrive. In the pits of synthetic darkness, reader, you'll find the dark, eerie labs of the Twelfth Division, absolutely famous for their progress in research and development. Founded by Kisuke Urahara, now control falls directly into the hands of Captain Kurotsuchi – someone who perhaps created the stigma for the phrase 'mad scientist'.

Yet for all his insanity, Kurotsuchi is not captain of this division for nothing. He has intelligence and creativity which, although sometimes elaborated on in sadistic ways, have proved invaluable to the Soul Society.

Even he fell under the command of Captain Yamamoto, but sometimes, he liked to pass on his more inane tasks to his seated officers, who always looked eager for a challenge. Akon, in particular, for all his strange looks and brutally scientific point of view, had all the promise a captain of the twelfth needed, but none of the power. Therefore, Kurotsuchi felt no reservation whatsoever in assigning Akon the task of figuring out the mystery of the parasite plaguing Soul Society.

See, reader, before Hitsugaya had encountered Rukia, he spent his morning finishing paperwork, and making a very specific report to the Twelfth Division, relaying his encounter with the hollow, especially the strange feeling of encountering Ichigo's spiritual pressure. Personally, he had no idea what this could mean, but he knew if anyone would know what to do with that information, it would be the scientists of the twelfth.

Akon, to his credit, had been more than willing to comply, happy, even, to receive orders from Kurotsuchi to continue. The parasite, the hollow, had been a puzzle Akon oversaw for months. He looked at it from every angle, trying to find the missing piece, wondering why it had to be so dangerous.

And with Captain Hitsugaya's report, Akon finally found it.

For nearly six hours straight, he had been working non-stop, doing tests, configuring numbers, and generally researching in ways this story can't exactly explain, because this story doesn't understand that science all too well. In fact, this story sat a bit in the background, along with a few other squad members, as Akon rushed to and fro, each new discovery bringing with it a new light in his eyes.

He worked until one could practically see steam coming from his ears in excitement. And when he found it, he didn't waste time with a hell butterfly. He left immediately to seek the Captain Commander, his findings held tight within his arms.

Luckily for him, Captain Commander could be found eating lunch this time of day. Akon managed to see him, after stressing the importance of his message and (subtly) threatening a few stubborn guards of Kurotsuchi's wrath. That always worked. The only captain who could intimidate a man faster would be Kenpachi Zaraki. Or maybe Unohana, but only in her infirmary.

"Akon," Captain Commander greeted in his gruff voice, setting aside a cup of tea. His lieutenant was absent, Akon noted dully as he nodded. He'd spent so long in the dark in front of beeping computers, the light had him discombobulated.

But courtesy had its place, and he bowed deeply, taking a seat when Yamamoto gestured for him to do so. "What is this about?" he asked, never one to miss a beat.

Akon dived immediately into his story, relaying the basic information of Hitsugaya's second encounter with the hollow, as well as the strange feeling of Ichigo's spiritual pressure. The Captain Commander followed his words with slow confidence, stroking his beard and nodding and humming along with his words.

"So what does it mean?" he asked, ever patient even in the face of Akon's winded explanations and long, scientific words.

"The way the parasite works, it imbeds itself in a host's body and begins to sap the host of his spiritual pressure and strength," Akon explained excitedly. To him, being able to solve this mystery felt like getting a puppy on Christmas. "It can't send it back to the hollow, instead it stores the power in its own body until the host dies. Once the host dies, it signals the parasite that it's time to leave the host, and seek out the hollow again.

"After it finds the hollow, the parasite than fuses with it, giving the hollow the strength and pressure that other hollows normally eat themselves to obtain. At first, we thought that the hollow's spiritual pressure dominates whatever reiatsu it gets, like when a normal hollow eats souls." Akon paused, letting his words sink in, hoping that the Commander would understand.

Of course, the meaning was beginning to dawn on him. "Are you saying that the hollow doesn't absorb souls the way normal ones do?" he gruffed.

Akon nodded excitedly, placing papers on the table. "Exactly," he glowed. "The way the hollow absorbs the energy the parasite brings it allows that spiritual pressure to stay separate from its own. It probably does this so it can lure others into a trap, by unleashing familiar reiatsu."

Captain Commander stared at him expectantly, so Akon gulped down any lengthy explanations and said, "with this information, the hollow's no longer a ghost.

"With this information, we can trace it."

And while Captain Commander always claimed to trust the abilities of his subordinates completely, Akon knew by the change in his expression that his own prowess had caught him quite off guard. Yamamoto's expression was subtle at best, but Akon spent enough time deciphering the strange facial cues of Captain Kurotsuchi, he could tell by the length of his jaw and the twitch in his cheeks. In all sense of the word, Yamamoto _gawked._

Perhaps the occasion called for a more mature personality, but Akon couldn't help feeling a little bit smug.

Yamamoto stood from his table, his gnarled cane held firmly in his bony hand. "Have you put your information to any good use yet?" he growled, and Akon blinked, all sense of accomplishment wiped away.

"Er – not yet, Captain Commander," Akon acquiesced. "By all rights, this is a mere theory for now. We'll have to run some tests, and collect data for analysis, but if I am right about this…"

"Get to the point," Captain Commander scowled, not really understanding what Akon was rambling on about. He kept his quarry as a leader of fighters, not as a scientist.

Akon nodded. "Of course, Captain," he responded. "And if my preliminary hypothesis is correct, we should be able to locate the hollow within the next three days, possibly sooner."

"Three days?" Yamamoto said sharply, never one to enjoy delays. Still, even in his impatience he could see through Akon's excitement to the pure exhaustion plaguing the man. He could be as ecstatic as he wanted, but something about the mussed hair and rather wild look in his eyes said he most likely hadn't rested in days.

Akon nodded, launching himself into a rather long explanation including the technical obstacles he needed to overcome in order to isolate the small samples of leftover reiatsu. "We only have so much to work with," he explained. "We have to get it right the first time, so it's a delicate process."

Aggravating, Yamamoto nodded, but also strangely hopeful. "Take the time you need to perfect it," Yamamoto ordered him. "Report back to me when you're ready, and I'll alert Captain Hitsugaya and his team."

"I understand," Akon answered, standing up to leave.

He bowed to the Captain Commander, wasting no time to practically sprint back to his lab. The weariness in his muscles reminded him of how much work he had left, and how little he'd been taking care of himself.

The twelfth squad is a very unique squad, reader. Everyone knows it, but only those who live and breathe the atmosphere understand just how unique, how under the radar they perform. More so than the fourth squad, and even the second squad's corps. They worked tirelessly, studying everything, with every discovery seeming so light and insignificant, most others pass over their work as if it's worthless.

This, however, couldn't be any farther from the truth. In fact, those tiny discoveries, the little pieces of fact that fit together better and better over time are what have shaped Soul Society. And although it goes mostly unnoticed, the members hardly ever care. In fact, one could argue Kurotsuchi enjoyed the promiscuity. Constant inattention allowed him much more leeway than if he stayed as centripetal as Kenpachi and his squad.

In response, all members of his squad experienced the same amount of desire to stay on the outskirts. Akon, for one, knew this better than most. While subordinates might gripe about the way other squads treated them, Akon reveled in his position. In his hands, he held stacks of paper – so slight in nature. Yet he, by himself, possessed the single answer which would allow them to kill a hollow which has caused so much grief.

That type of power could drive him as mad as Kurotsuchi. People have lost their minds over a lot less.

Instead, he returned to his bunker – pitch black save for the bright clicking lights of the computer screens. His subordinates welcomed him back, all a little disappointed their breaks had ended. But then again, Akon always enameled a certain type of radiance, and the moment he stepped into his home, he felt infused with the purpose that woke him up everyday.

"We have a lot to do, and not a lot of time," he told the others in the lab. While some groaned, most felt themselves grow rigid with tension. Something heavy hung on Akon, and they could all sense it. They were nearing an end of a chapter, and the last quarter of the race always requires the most effort.

"Let's get moving," Akon instructed, and they heeded, the room growing solid with the sounds of computers typing and tests being run. Akon ventured to the case in which they held the squirming, ugly parasite. Even though it had been locked up for weeks, it still constantly tried to worm itself through the impenetrable cage. Unable to disguise his glee, Akon pulled on his gloves and set his papers aside. "Alright," he whispered to the parasite, "let's see what makes you tic."

* * *

><p>The sunset unleashed tidal waves of color, what Rukia truly considered a magnificent display of oranges and reds and various hues of fire tinting the clouds. Beyond its magnificence blared a flagrant warning of impending night, so she stooped to her feet, brushing grass and dirt from her clothes.<p>

Toshiro had left her nearly an hour ago, citing that he had important business to attend to. She didn't doubt him, but something had seemed off. His skin, usually fair with a healthy tan, looked pale, and his hands shook when he carried the basket. Concerned, she wanted to accompany him back to the city, but he refused.

'I'm visiting Matsumoto,' he finally confessed when she pressed the issue. So although he was practically wheezing by the time he reached the top of the hill, she let him go off alone. Even if he were sick, at least he would be heading towards the infirmary anyways. Besides, his tone of voice held a sort of finality, and even she had a hard time defying him when he pressed his lips to thin lines and his eyes narrowed, in the sort of expression she knew he used on the more wayward subordinates.

Not to say it didn't irritate her, but she had no intention of coming between him and his fading lieutenant. She hadn't been to the infirmary recently, but she heard the whispers that she wasn't doing well.

After the Captain had dismissed her, she decided to stay, for a little while longer. Before, she came to the graves to ask for forgiveness. Now, she wanted to confide in them, like she always used to. Sure, she never really liked to come forward about her feelings on a regular basis, but they knew her. She had given them permission to know her, and in response they could read every smile, every frown. In the past months, she forgotten what it felt like to have someone know you.

For an hour she stayed and talked. Not out loud – that wasn't her thing. But she silently whispered all the secrets she'd been harboring, all her doubts and fear and guilt. And although she was talking to graves, by the time she stood up again, she felt lighter.

Happiness is a strange emotion, reader. Why is it so easy to remember the times we were depressed, or fearful, but when someone asks for our best memory, we draw a blank? You would think we would cherish our best moments, the times when we laughed until our guts ached, or felt so peaceful that death didn't even scare us.

Instead, we dwell on our mistakes, on our hurts. Those times we cried, those times we hurt the people close to us or ourselves. And it continues to hurt, with only the salve of time and reconciliation able to dull it. But those scars always stay. Why is it, reader, that happiness can't scar us in the way sadness does?

Then again reader, maybe it does. Maybe happiness doesn't leave a scar. Maybe it heals the ones we already have.

With a backdrop of fire, Rukia bent her head in one last prayer. She had no idea where her friend's souls disappeared to after death. By all accounts, Soul Society _was_ the afterlife, so she had no reason to consider they went anywhere.

"That doesn't matter though, does it?" she muttered out loud, pressing her fists to her chest. "Because your hearts are here, with me. Aren't they?"

She supposed it was dumb of her to expect a reply, but she couldn't help feel disappointed all the same. The wind whipped the scattered tears from her face, and she sighed into the air. It felt so different now, she realized. For months, she'd been too buried by guilt to understand that the hole in her stomach, the terror in her mind, was grief. Soul-shattering grief. The type of grief that could drive her to tear out her hair and wail and scream and cry until her voice vanished and her cheeks bled from the acidity of her tears.

She could do just that, but this time, she refused. Swallowing her tears, she forced a smile for her fallen friends. "Stop worrying," she choked out, her voice hoarse. "I might be sad, but I'm still here, aren't I? I will survive. And I won't die alone. I'll protect your hearts, now and always."

No one responded. Alone on the hilltop and surrounded by graves, she bade her friends goodbye, promising to visit soon, and turned to head home. She had work to do tomorrow, and tonight she needed rest.

* * *

><p>Night descended, reader, in the way night always does. Gradual at first, and then swift in the way it swallowed the sky and wrapped the world and its creatures in shadow.<p>

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Isane asked the far too stubborn captain of the tenth. She trailed him from the moment he stepped in the door – not for lucrative reasons, but because he looked sick. Not just sick, but very, very ill, and she wished Unohana was around. The woman could command even Kenpachi into a sick bed, but Isane hadn't quite learned how to carry that same shield of dominance.

Therefore, she felt helpless when Hitsugaya turned her down for the sixth time. He came to see Rangiku, and he sat with her until the sun fell. He had been pale when he arrived, but by now Isane could tell something really was wrong. His hands shook, his skin perspired, and he coughed raggedly every few minutes.

Yet for all his symptoms, he still managed to capture a domineering essence when Isane tried to convince him to stay. "I'm fine, Lieutenant," he told her briskly, his eyes narrowing. "I'm just tired. I'll go home to rest."

To his annoyance, Isane insisted on escorting him to the front, but when he left, she had no choice to let him go. As much as she hated to see him walk home in such condition, she had patients to see to here, and Retsu wasn't anywhere nearby. Reluctantly, she wished him good luck, and returned to the fluorescently lit halls.

Night changed the infirmary walls in slight, fractured ways. Sure, for all the myths of shadow, Isane had come to learn that people were just as likely to die in the daytime as they were at night, and the fourth squad hospital always carried a full staff. Still, night always brought with it the sense of foreboding, for reasons she couldn't really explain.

The feeling wasn't new, though, so she carried on her rounds as usual. While dealing with her subordinates checking in, new complaints of pain and admonishing her staff for working until they passed out, she found enough time to check in on Momo Hinamori personally.

The girl's condition hadn't really improved ever since finding out about Aizen. Unohana had no choice – after the sedative wore off, she woke up asking questions. The grief and disbelief on her face looked nearly physically painful when Unohana gently informed her of Aizen's death.

To be honest, Isane expected a whole new rampage of screaming and anger, but instead Momo fell silent, which felt even worse. For the past day, she left all her food untouched, and hardly reacted when the healers came in to assess her condition. For all intents and purposes, she had pulled off a miraculous recovery. Isane could only ascribe her lethargy to depression, as if Aizen's death took away her will to live.

'Don't worry so much, Isane," Unohana had said quietly to her after they checked Momo's condition. 'She was able to cope once, so it's possible for her to cope twice, ne? I think she's stronger than she looks.'

Isane had to agree there – Momo always proved them wrong, one way or another. It was easy to misjudge her, to label her weak. But for all her pandering around Captain Aizen, no one could deny that she earned her seat, and she fought as hard as everyone else in the Winter War. They had no choice but to give her time.

While Isane half expected to see her awake, just sitting there in bed, she found with relief that at some point, the brunette had nodded off. She snuggled herself amongst the blankets, with a look of peaceful confidence on her face which reminded Isane of the old Momo – before the entire Aizen fiasco happened.

Then again, she pondered, maybe it would be better off this way. Momo may have been happier before, but she'd also been Aizen's blind, faithful sheep. While Isane could wish for hours that Aizen never stepped foot in Sereitei, she had to believe some good came from his deeds.

Thinking quietly, she glanced up in a start when she heard footsteps clattering towards her, accompanied by the startled shouts of voices. Alarmed, she forgot every thought about Momo and met the running squad members as they almost bashed into her in their haste.

"Lieutenant," breathed out one of the subordinates. Despite the fact his voice sounded ragged from his run, he spoke clearly, in the profession way most healers have. "It's Rangiku Matsumoto. Her heart's stopped."

* * *

><p>The sun rose, like it did every day, like it will always do, until the day it ceases to exist.<p>

The world has always turned so carelessly. Life and death, as monumental as they can be personally, are tiny blips of fractal importance when compared to the rest of the Earth. People are born, people die, and the sun continues to rise and set as it always has; carelessly. In response, the rest of the world's creatures remain ignorant to heartbreak and hatred, simply because the sun can't be bothered to care.

On this day, the sun should have shattered in the sky. The world should have stopped turning, and all of residing beings should have looked up to the clouds when it began to rain, and mourned along with everyone else over the loss of a lieutenant.

But the sun didn't shatter, and the clouds didn't rain. Instead, they highlighted a spectacular sunrise, and the world shone just as bright and heedless as it always has. Therefore, when its citizens awoke, they awoke none the wiser.

Rukia, who had spent her night tossing and turning, nonetheless felt… not quite excited, but nearly, to start her day. It felt like her first real day as a lieutenant, and the emotion struck her as alien when she strapped the identifying badge to her arm. It would weigh her down, but lift her up at the same time. It didn't make much sense, but it felt right.

Miles away, Hisagi and Kira woke up after a long night they spent drinking and laughing and remembering good times. They didn't sleep much, and Hisagi still felt slightly drunk, but in some small way, his soul felt a little more healed.

Already in his office, Toshiro sighed and pressed his palms to his head. He ached all over, and he didn't know why. It wasn't a sickness he ever felt before. He felt… drained. Exhausted, even though he fell asleep as soon as he hit his mattress last night, and slept solidly until just before dawn. He had forcibly dragged himself out of bed, only motivated by his own intense desire to serve. Yet by the time he reached his office, he felt nearly too tired to stand. Not to mention his head ached, and he couldn't stop shaking. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to get up and walk, figuring a cup of tea could serve him well.

"Time?" Captain Unohana asked her stricken lieutenant. Isane didn't respond, couldn't respond, and continued to stare in shock at the bed. Unshed tears threatened to leak, and Unohana pressed a warm, comforting hand against her shoulder. "The time, Isane. We need to record it."

Forced out of her reverie, Isane slowly raised her eyes to meet the captain's. "Four fifty three," she choked out, her voice ragged. She spent hours,_ hours_, attempting to pump life back into Matsumoto, but to no avail. Eventually, a subordinate managed to reach Unohana, and she had stepped up to pull Isane away.

'I'm sorry,' she said softly, so softly Isane's heart ached. 'She's gone, Isane.'

Numbly, Isane forced her fingers to move as she set to fill out the death paperwork, attempting to keep her eyes from moving back to the lieutenant. In death, she looked so small and pale, hardly a shell of a woman she had been. Already the warmth began to seep from her body, leaving a frozen doll behind.

Behind her, several somber faced squad members covered Rangiku's body, obscuring her pale, gaunt face from view. Maybe they didn't all know her personally, but the death of the lieutenant hit them all hard.

"I will take care of this, Isane," Unohana said. "You report to the Captain Commander."

Anything, Isane thought as she left the room. Anything to get away from that room.

* * *

><p>The message broadcast later that day.<p>

Non-suspecting people went along their paths, traversing streets, arguing with adversaries and laughing with friends. Caught up with their own duties, until the hell butterflies began to fly.

Of course, not enough butterflies existed to send out a single message to each member of the Soul Society. Instead, one was sent out to each of the seated officers, relaying the bald, scalding message.

_Lieutenant Rangiku Matsumoto died at four fifty three this morning as a result of her injuries on the battlefield. _

The message went on, with words of her passing and notes about a memorial service, but the trivial details fell upon deaf ears. All across Seretei, people stopped and noticed as whispers became loud murmurs, turning into words and then shouts of sadness and shock. Sure, the woman had hung on the precipice for months now, but no one had really been prepared to let her go.

* * *

><p>Rukia received her own hell butterfly. It landed delicately on her finger, and, while she didn't know it, she was one of the few to listen to the whole message. Maybe she had been prepared, or maybe by now she came close to soulless, but the news didn't leave her breaking down into tears. In fact, she couldn't help her surprise when she walked in on Ukitake crying softly.<p>

Her captain always wore his emotions bare, but he did his best to disguise his shock and sadness. "Lieutenant Kuchiki," he greeted her, somehow mustering a normal level of warmth that usually cheered her up with ease. Today, it just made her feel worse.

"Hey Captain," she replied softly, noticing that his two most loyal were nowhere to be found. Ukitake smiled at her tiredly.

"Those two ran off, saying something about medicinal tea," he told her, and despite it all, she couldn't help but crack a smile. Kiyone and Sentaro had been obnoxious, boisterous, and all out wacky from the day she joined, but she knew they always had his back. And hers, too.

Today was meant to be her first day of duties, but as Kiyone and Sentaro returned, he invited them all to sit down for a cup of tea. There, the captain and lieutenant mourned while the two goons alternated between arguing loudly and weeping uncontrollably.

* * *

><p>Ironically, Toshiro, Kira, and Hisagi all happened along the same tea shop at the same time – when the hell butterflies flew.<p>

_Lieutenant Rangiku Matsumoto died at four fifty three this morning as a result of her injuries on the battlefield. _

None of them heard the rest.

Hisagi gasped, while Kira exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. Hitsugaya stood there on the street, wavering slightly, looking up at the sky.

And while in Hisagi the seeds of despair and betrayal already began to take root, Toshiro could dimly hear his name being called. His world spun, spun, spun, and he could hardly focus on Kira, but somehow his mind managed to connect the words being said with the man's voice. _Captain Hitsugaya? Are you alright?_

Somewhere along the line, his balance dropped from his feet, and he let out a sharp sound which fell just short of a laugh. "No," he muttered, "I don't think so."

Then he collapsed.

* * *

><p>Usually this is the point where I ask you to forgive me for any OOCwriting errors/characterization mistakes I've made, but at this point, I'm just stoked I have only two more chapters to write.

Oh well, it's a mile marker for me, and we're coming down the home stretch!

A heartfelt thanks to my small but dedicated fan base who consistently badger me to finish. Seriously, if it weren't for you guys, I'd probably have given up a long time ago.

Speaking of people badgering me, I regret to say it'll probably be a month or two before the next update. I'm in summer school, and working, and vacationing, so I won't have much time for philosophical dribble, however much I'll miss it.

Until next time!


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